A Chevalier To Remember
by TheseWordsAreUnspoken
Summary: Sequel to And So It Begins. Iris returns to Paris, and immediately finds herself in a plot to take down the musketeers. Meanwhile searching for the culprit, her past is catching up with her, and she slowly realises that she has made the biggest mistake yet - falling in love with a soldier. It might even cost her her life...
1. Chapter 1

_I'm a phoenix in the water_ _  
_ _A fish that's learned to fly_ _  
_ _And I've always been a daughter_ _  
_ _But feathers are meant for the sky_ _  
_ _And so I'm wishing, wishing further,_ _  
_ _For the excitement to arrive_ _  
_ _It's just I'd rather be causing the chaos_ _  
_ _Than laying at the sharp end of this knife_  
Home – Gabrielle Aplin

* * *

When Iris had accepted the captains offer to go out in the world, she never once imagined five years to pass before she would set foot in Paris again.

It pleased her to see that nothing had changed – Paris was just as she remembered it. Of course, nothing would be the same. She was a different woman; living with Navarre had given her everything Treville wanted for her. She was faster and stronger, and certainly more experienced than before she had left. And yet, as she began nearing the musketeers garrison, she felt unsure of what was waiting for her.

Iris had left the garrison broken and in despair. The massacre in Savoy had torn each and every last musketeer to shreds, physically or emotionally. With five years to regain it's strength, she didn't know what to expect. It would never be what she remembered it to be. Touching the bracelet with the small brass fleur-de-lis charm hanging from it, she took a deep breath. It was a nervous habit, but it never ceased to give her the strength she needed to move on.

Being the first and only female musketeer had never been easy. Over the years she had learned to shut out the comments and judgement from the people she met. Even at the garrison she had had trouble being fully accepted by her brothers. It would be no different now.

 _At least you will have the support of Aramis and captain Treville_ , a small voice said inside her.

The thought made her smile. After everything he had been through, Iris had hated herself for leaving him behind. It didn't matter that he had encouraged her to go himself – the attack had changed him.

They had been keeping in touch over the years, but she hadn't laid eyes on him since her departure from the garrison. His letters had soon become cheerier, leaving her with a hope that she would find him as the same charming man who had become the closest thing she had to family.

As the familiar gates came into sight, she felt a thrill go through her. Come what may, at least she would be home again.

* * *

"I feel like someone should ask," Aramis began, after a full two minutes of silence. "Why did you call us in here?"

Standing in a line behind the desk in Treville's office, Aramis, Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan had been waiting for their captain to say something. Not five minutes ago he had appeared at the porch in the courtyard, calling them upstairs. When they entered, he was sitting in his chair, sending impatient glances at the window every other second. The men had waited for some sort of explanation, that didn't come.

Treville sighed, and turned his attention to them after one last glance at the window.

"I was hoping someone would join us before pulling you into this, but I cant delay this investigation any further..."

Glances were exchanged between the men at the mention of another person joining them, but no one broached the subject.

"There's been a string of murders – four that I know of – that I at first glance didn't see anything mysterious about. However, four men is too much of a coincidence to ignore."

"Do these men share a connection?" Athos enquired.

"Not with each other. Their connection is to us. These men functioned, if you will, like extra eyes and ears on the streets of Paris."

"Do you believe these men were murdered because of their connection to the musketeers?" D'Artagnan asked with a frown. Treville ran a hand over his eyes.

"As there were no witnesses to any of the murders, it's hard to tell. If this is indeed just a coincidence, we should treat it as nothing but a simple murder investigation. But," he said, leaning forward in his chair, "if there is someone running around, cutting off the musketeers source of information, we might find ourselves in bigger trouble than we've ever been in before."

Athos lowered his head, deep in thought. It would indeed put the musketeers in a bad light if it became known that valuable information had been compromised. He knew a few of the informants himself; frequently, he took advantage of their expertise himself. For whatever reason, these men stood ready at a moments notice whenever they were needed. They could move like shadows through Paris, receiving or delivering information without being discovered. To hear four of them were dead surprised him. To his knowledge, very few people knew of the existence of these informants.

"It is of the utmost importance you keep this investigation behind closed doors – if someone is out to weaken the regiment, we'd do well to stay a few steps ahead."

Treville glanced back at the window again, looking unsure for a moment.

"It's a tricky situation... I must admit, I am at a loss to where you should begin looking."

"And this _someone_ is an informant as well? Will he be able to shed some light on where to begin?" Porthos asked, crossing his arms.

" _She_ is not, but _she_ will certainly endeavour to do whatever _she_ can," a voice spoke behind them, emphasizing the word she.

Like the others, Athos turned to stare at the woman who had spoken.

She was leaning against the door frame, watching them all with amusement. Though she looked like she had been travelling a long way, her green eyes were alight with joy. A ray of light from the setting sun came through the window, turning the blonde hair that fell down below her shoulders a warm golden colour. She wore a dark blue jacket over a simple dress.

When she stepped into the room, everyone's eyes followed her. Athos found it hard to determine her age – she was young, but there was an air of maturity about her. She couldn't be older than D'Artagnan.

Aramis, who had turned to look at her with a furrowed brow, now stared at her dumbfounded. Her smile grew wider at the sight of his surprise.

"Forgive my delayed arrival, captain," she apologised, her eyes never leaving Aramis'. "There was a slight delay at the detour you had me take. Musket wound to the chest, no witnesses."

"I expected as much... that makes it five men," he mused, watching her as though it was only natural for a woman to speak of such things. The impatient look had returned, but there was now a hint of joy in his eyes as well. Glancing back the the musketeers in front of him, he cleared his throat and stood up as she came to a stop next to him.

"Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Iris Chevalier. Iris, this is-"

"Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan," she finished, looking them each in the eye in turn. A strange feeling settled over them, as the strange women before them guessed who was who. Seeing their confusion, she chuckled.

"There's no need to look so worried – I'm no stalker. It's just, Aramis often mentions you in his letters."

"Does he now?" Porthos grumbled, turning to Aramis with a questioning look. Aramis still looked speechless, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

"It would seem he hasn't extended the courtesy of telling us about you, Mademoiselle," Athos said slowly, frowning at the two of them.

"I prefer just Iris, thank you."

"And I prefer any further introductions to be taken outside. You three," Treville said, gesturing towards Athos, Porthos and Aramis, "are to report at the Louvre tomorrow. D'Artagnan, I'll have you and Iris begin looking into these killings in the morning."

Signalling them to leave the room, he turned back to Iris.

"I'd like a word with you before you go anywhere."

The four men still stood in the room, watching Iris with varying expressions of confusion.

"In **private** ," Treville added, producing the stern look they all knew to respect. When the door closed behind D'Artagnan, his expression softened.

"I was starting to worry – according to our correspondence, you were to return days ago."

Iris' smile faltered a bit, and sadness replaced the joy in her eyes.

"Navarre took a turn for the worse just as I was about to leave," she explained, absent mindedly scraping her boot across the floor. "It didn't seem right to leave him in the hour of his death. Not after everything he's done for me."

"You did say he was sick, but I never realised it was this bad," he muttered, sitting down heavily in his chair again.

"At least he passed without any difficulties," Iris sighed. "He sends his regards," she continued, half a smile forming. Treville let out a laugh and shook his head.

"So very like him to act polite, even from beyond the grave."

They were silent for a moment, remembering the men who had once been a comrade of Treville and since a teacher to Iris. When Treville spoke again, his focus had returned to present.

"I hope you wont mind being sent straight out into the field."

"Anything else, and I would be offended."

"These men you saw in here – what do you know of them?"

"Only what Aramis has written." Iris glanced back at the door where they had disappeared through. "He seems to have a great deal of trust in them."

"As he should. Athos and Porthos are both very fine musketeers. And, though he hasn't been with us for long, D'Artagnan shows great promise. Not unlike you did yourself," he commented with a hint of pride.

"It's not their skills I'm worried about," she admitted, letting her voice trail off. Treville gave her an assuring nod.

"If you give them a chance to get to know you, they will quickly come to accept you. Aramis will see to that."

* * *

When the door closed behind D'Artagnan, Porthos instantly rounded Aramis.

"You need to explain what is going on," he demanded.

"Who is that woman?" D'Artagnan asked, narrowing his eyes.

Aramis started slowly shaking his head.

"Let's go outside – Treville wont be happy if he thinks we're eavesdropping."

Walking out to the porch, Aramis was closely followed by his friends.

" _Who_ is that woman?" D'Artagnan repeated as they made a small circle around Aramis.

"Iris is an old friend. She's... I haven't seen her in years."

"But who **IS** she?"

Aramis sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Well, first and foremost, she is a musketeer."

Silence. Glancing at his friends, he saw disbelief on their faces.

"Really though," Porthos muttered, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm not kidding you. I was there when she was commissioned." He stopped for a moment, and frowned. "Well, not _there_. I wasn't in the room as it happened. Treville is the only witness. But I assure you, she is as a musketeer as surely as I am."

"But... she's a _woman_ ," D'Artagnan argued. A wide smile appeared on Aramis' face.

"True as that may be, do not say those words when she is around to hear you. I should know what she's capable of – I helped train her myself."

"You did WHAT?" Athos exclaimed, looking at Aramis as though he had gone mental.

"I'll hear none of this _women shouldn't fight, it isn't ladylike_ stuff," Aramis warned, his smile faltering a bit.

"I've never said anything about women not being able to fight," Athos quickly pointed out. "But she seems so young. Far too innocent for this kind of life."

"Clearly, you don't know me at all," Iris commented, as she walked onto the porch. The joyous smile had returned, and she looked at Athos with a challenging look.

"Mademoiselle, I didn't mean to insult you-"

" _Iris._ And I'm quite sure young and innocent counts as compliments compared to what others have called me."

Before he had a chance to say anything else, she turned back to Aramis.

"Surprised to see me?" she asked with a mischievous smile.

"Very much," he admitted, grinning. "I'm still finding it hard to quite believe it. What are you doing here?"

"Well, Navarre is no longer with us and Treville though it was long overdue for me to come home."

"Understatement," he muttered as he moved in to give her a hug that actually lifted her off her feet.

"Just look at you," he noted as she let go. "Someone's turned into a woman."

"Oh that's flattering," she said sarcastically, a look of mock hurt on her face.

"You know what I mean – clearly, going away has done wonders for you."

"Only the tip of the iceberg."

"I'm sorry," D'Artagnan interrupted the reunion, looking between the two of them,"but I still don't quite understand what is going on here."

"Well, what do you want to know?" Iris asked, giving him a slight smile.

"I'm very curious about the whole _female musketeer_ thing," Porthos admitted.

"We were actually going out for a drink tonight," Aramis explained, looking hopefully at her. "You could come along. It would give us a chance to sort it all out."

"I wouldn't want to impose," she said quietly, a flicker of nervousness crossing her eyes. Aramis saw it, and turned expectantly to Porthos.

"The more the merrier," he assured her.

"And what of you? Will you for once join us?" Aramis asked, turning to Athos.

Athos rarely joined them at night, as he was more of a solitary drinker. These past weeks, since discovering that his wife... were he even supposed to still call her that... he had been drinking harder than usually. It hadn't gone unnoticed by his friends, where only D'Artagnan knew what had made the sudden change.

Standing with them now, he found himself actually considering it, if only to learn more of the woman they were to work with. Realising she was staring at him, he took a deep breath, and shrugged.

"I don't see why not."

He could always slip into the shadows of a corner later in the night.

"Give me a minute to bring my things to my room," she said, moving towards the stairs. Aramis watched her go to a small stack of things, and smiled at how familiar it was to see her in the courtyard. After she disappeared into the hall that lead to the rooms, and turned and found Porthos looking hopelessly at him.

"What?" Aramis asked, his smile fading a bit.

"Don't tell me the two of you... you know."

"With _Iris_?" he exclaimed, a laugh escaping his lips. "She's like a sister to me."

"You cannot blame Porthos for assuming something like that," Athos replied, leaning against the wall. _She certainly is appealing enough for you to have considered it_ , he thought to himself.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **I. Am. BACK!**

 **My eyes are burning, and I'm SO tired, but it's worth it to get the sequel going! We're starting off easy - let's realise it. There's no rush. Iris is back in Paris and the musketeers are confuzzed. Yes, I said confuzzed. I need sleep, desperately.**

 **Feedback is so much appreciated, and I hope you will enjoy this story as Iris finds herself with our four heroes.**

 **Also, to clarify, this story begins a few weeks after S01E03. I wont stick completely to the original storyline from the series - fanfiction is to make new stories, is it not?**


	2. Chapter 2

_Momma once told me_ _  
_ _You're already home where you feel loved_ _  
_ _I am lost in my mind_ _  
_ _I get lost in my mind_

 _Oh my brother_ _  
_ _Your wisdom is older than me_ _  
_ _Oh my brother_ _  
_ _Don't you worry 'bout me_

Lost In My Mind – The Head And The Heart

* * *

 _At least they haven't freaked out... yet_ , Iris thought as she walked down the hall towards the door with a painted thirteen next to it.

Over the years, she and Aramis had kept in touch through writing. It helped both of them deal with being separated after having grown so close over the past months. Gradually, his words got a cheery feel to them, and from what she gathered a lot of that had to do with his adventures alongside two of the newest recruits – Athos and Porthos.

His most recent letter came with the first mention of D'Artagnan, and how a grave misunderstanding had led him to work with the three musketeers. Aramis' letters helped her feel connected to the garrison. Whenever she received one, she would always feel a pang of being left out, followed by an immediate need to return to Paris.

Not that life with Navarre had been bad. He proven to be an incredibly talented swordsman, as well as a patient teacher and a very jubilant man. Navarre always found happiness in the small things. Her own letters to Aramis told the tales of her training, and the encounters she had with the many interesting people she met at Navarre's home.

Growing comfortable there took time. Though everyone showed her kindness, she couldn't help but compare it with her first days at the garrison. Aramis and Marsac had done everything in their power to make her feel welcome...

There had been no word from Marsac since the massacre. Though his presence was there in her thoughts when she looked at the charm hanging by her wrist, she had long ago stopped expecting news of him.

As Aramis never wrote anything about Marsac in his letters, she had decided she wouldn't bring him up in her own. It was only natural he would find new friends fill the void Marsac had left when he deserted and she seeing them with him now she felt it was better that way. He deserved being surrounded by trusting and loyal comrades.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she opened the door of room number thirteen. Her room seemed to be untouched. The bed was still made in that special way Elaine had taught her so many years ago. A small collection of weapons still stood in a corner where she had left them. A layer of dust covered every surface, but with a bucket of water she would soon be rid of that.

 _When I return_ , she thought, and dropped her things by the end of her bed. For half a second she considered digging out her pauldron from the depths of her satchel, but decided against it.

Remembering just how well people reacted when seeing her bear the uniform of the musketeers, she thought it best to save it for tomorrow. Tonight would be confusing enough as it was.

 _Lets not scare them away just yet, all right Iris_?

* * *

"I'll have you know Porthos, I've got plenty of female friends with whom I am not involved with," Aramis announced, crossing his arms defensively in front of him. A chuckle came from his taller friend.

"And how many of these friends you are _not-involved-with_ haven't shared your bed?" Porthos asked, a playful look in his eyes. Aramis narrowed his eyes in thought.

"Well... well, there's Constance... and..."

"My point exactly," Porthos concluded, giving Aramis a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Athos turned to Aramis himself, feeling a stream of question build inside him.

"How long have you known her?" he asked.

"Some five and a half years."

"And you never thought to mention that you're close with the _only female musketeer in all of history_?" D'Artagnan countered. Aramis chuckled and shrugged.

"You never asked."

"Yet she knows of us," Athos mentioned.

"You've been mentioned in our correspondence, yes. But let me assure you, he quickly added, "I've never passed on any personal information. She knows only what we have been up to."

As if on cue, Iris returned to the courtyard. By now, the sun had dipped behind the walls around them, leaving them in the beginning twilight.

"Do you still go to drink at the Mary Rose?" she asked as they made their way out of the gates.

"They closed the Mary Rose years ago," Aramis explained, "something about vermin."

"How am I not surprised, I always hated that place."

"You hate all such places."

She glanced at him with half a smile.

"Hate and dislike are two very different things. I dislike all such places, so I choose to avoid them."

"Perhaps that is because you're embarrassed by what drinking does to you. I've still never seen you drunk."

"And if I can help it, you never will."

Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan followed them, watching the exchange between Aramis and Iris with great interest. It was clear to see that they had a connection, and looking closely it was obvious that both of them had missed each other in their time apart. Moving to walk on the other side of Iris, Porthos gave her a quizzical look.

"How is it that we've never heard of you? A woman being commissioned – you would imagine something like that to be widely known," he mused. Iris opened her mouth to answer him, but Aramis cut in before she had uttered a sound.

"You've already heard of her. Does the words _queens guardian_ mean nothing to you?"

"God, Aramis!" Iris groaned, glaring aggravated at him. Athos also sped up to get closer.

"You're the queens guardian?" he asked.

"I'm really not-"

"I thought the queens guardian was just a fairytale," Porthos interrupted, staring off into the air with a furrowed brow.

"What is this thing with the queens guardian?" D'Artagnan joined in. Aramis looked over his shoulder and shook his head sadly at the young man.

"Forgive our young Gascon, Iris, he doesn't recognise a legend when he sees one."

"That is because he doesn't. It's nothing, really," she said assuringly to D'Artagnan.

"I'll explain it to you when we sit down," Aramis promised and turned his attention back to the small in they were nearing with every step.

"And I think I'll get the first round to avoid hearing that," Iris muttered.

"I like her already," Porthos declared as they pushed the door open.

* * *

They weren't the only ones who thought tonight was a good night for a drink. The noise was so loud, they had to raise their voices and lean in close to hear each other. As Iris tried to make her way to the bar, the four men moved towards a free corner where they might get some privacy.

"I heard whispers about the queens guardian," Porthos began, leaning closer to Aramis to be heard. "But none of them ended with the woman becoming a musketeer."

"Those were strange days," Aramis confessed, "you know how it is at court – news travel fast and become something else... entirely..."

His words trailed off and a look of annoyance appeared on his face. The others turned their attention to what he was looking at, and grew angry at the sight that met them.

Iris had been politely pushing her way through the mass of people, when a voice had suddenly whispered in her ear.

"What is an exquisite woman such as yourself doing with the likes of _them_?"

Iris felt herself tense slightly as she turned to the speaker. At the sight of his uniform, she groaned inwardly.

 _Why is it always a red guard_?

"Excuse me," she uttered and made to move away when he sneaked an arm around her waist, pulling her back.

"Bastard," Porthos hissed, and took a step in the direction of Iris, when a hand clasped down on his shoulder.

"Wait," Aramis muttered. Porthos stared at him incredulously.

"You're gonna let him treat her like that?"

"Just give her a moment," Aramis insisted, a slight hint of anticipation in his eyes.

Iris felt her hands clench into fists.

"Get your hands off me," she said, controlling her voice. The other red guards at the table snickered, and the one who held on to her leaned closer. A strong smell of alcohol lingered on his breath, almost making her gag.

"You're a lively one aren't you?"

"I'm warning you," she continued, feeling a burning sensation run through her. He ignored her words and let his hand slide further down her back.

"Whatever they're paying you, I'm sure we can come to a better agreement," he continued. "Release you from the company of musketeer scum."

She wasn't sure what did it – him implying that she was a whore, or the insult towards her own regiment – but in that moment she snapped. A second later her knee shot into his groin, causing him to bend over in shock and pain. A collective intake of air happened all around them, and a strange silence fell over the tavern, carrying Iris' words to every corner of the open room.

"You would do well to show some respect," she snarled, taking a firm hold of the collar of his shirt. His breathing came raggedly.

"Perhaps if you were half the man _any_ musketeer is, women would be more inclined to _consider_ sharing your company."

With those words she shoved him away from her, and he stumbled down on his chair. A few men moved out of her way as she stepped towards the bar, and a moment later the tavern was filled with voices and laughter again. Aramis let his hand slide off Porthos' shoulder and began moving towards the table again.

"I sense this isn't the first time you've witnessed something like this," Athos stated as he sat down in a chair. The others followed.

"She may not look it, but Iris doesn't need anyone to protect her honour. I tried, once, and I swear I thought she would punch me in irritation instead of thanking me."

He looked up as she came to the table, carrying five glasses and two bottles of wine. Sitting down between Porthos and D'Artagnan, she ran a hand through her hair.

"Five years, and not for a single second have I missed those wretched red guards."

"And yet it never ceases to entertain me to watch rejection in it's finest moment," Aramis responded.

"So long as you're not on the receiving end," Athos added as he poured a glass for each of them.

"I'll drink to that."

Iris took a sip of her wine. Navarre had been a lover of wine as well, and so she had at times felt obligated to share as glass with him. Though the taste of it never agreed with her, at least she could drink it now without grimacing.

"I think I should make something clear," she began, glancing around at each of them to be sure she had their attention. "The whole _queens guardian_ thing... I was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. I never asked for the attention it demanded thereafter, and I certainly don't approve of the name."

"But what really happened?" D'Artagnan asked. Iris looked to Aramis for guidance and exhaled deeply.

"From the beginning, yes? I was seventeen years old when I by chance met the captain. He brought me to Paris and gave me shelter. I began doing chores in repayment of his kindness. After some time I found that I was drawn to the life of the musketeers-"

"Not only drawn – it simply called out to her," Aramis added with a smile.

"- and after some time I began training in secret. Not because I had a deeply hidden desire to become a musketeer," she hastily said, "but because I liked to know I could look out for myself."

"Iris is a fast learner," Aramis continued, eyes growing distant at the memories that started to surface. "In a matter of weeks she had the techniques imprinted in her mind. She even learned to disassemble and reassemble a pistol just by seeing me do it."

"Perhaps we overdid it all," she mused. "I only wanted to protect myself – I never dreamed of being able to win in a fight with a musketeer."

"What can I say? She is a worthy opponent and there is no shame in such a defeat," Aramis admitted leaning back in his chair.

"So when I by chance ended up in the middle of an attack at the Louvre," she continued, her eyes growing darker, "it seemed wrong not to put what I had learned to good use."

Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan all listened intently. The smile on Aramis' face had melted away as he remembered the day. For some time he had believed Iris could have been dead.

"The king and queen were inspecting a newly renovated part of the palace. I was with the captain to run some errands, but he needed to speak with the king first which is why I was there. An explosion had us separated. The queen and I on one side of a huge wall of debris, everyone else on the other. Assassins infiltrated the palace, and as I was the only one to fend for the queen I did what felt right. Which resulted in me killing five men before the queen was safe again."

"Correction: saved the queens life by removing a threat," Aramis said. They shared a look, the memory of the aftermath of that day fresh in their minds.

"Touchy subject," she whispered. Clearing her throat, she forced a smile. "A week later Treville somehow convinced the king that I could be useful and that's how I was commissioned."

"That's quite extraordinary," Athos said appraisingly. Iris felt her smile grow a little less forced.

"Musketeer in just a few months. Seems like you have to get working if you want to beat that," Porthos muttered to D'Artagnan who laughed and shook his head.

"I'm not sure I can compete with that, her parents have obviously been training her for that moment her entire life," he joked giving her a mischievous look.

"Actually, my father died just after I was born and my mother passed when I was ten."

A silence fell over the table. The comfortable air around them turned tense as Iris suddenly seemed to realise what she had shared.

"I... I didn't know," D'Artagnan stammered, every trace of the mischief vaporized from his face. Iris looked up at Aramis who stared at her in surprise. It wasn't news to him, but hearing her talk of her life before the musketeers was a rare thing. Athos who had been about to fill his glass again, slowly placed the bottle of wine on the table. Looks of pity showed on both his and Porthos' faces. She stood up suddenly.

"I've been travelling for some time now, so I should probably get some rest," she said, her voice emotionless. Porthos glanced at D'Artagnan who looked ready to kick himself.

"Iris, I didn't mean to-"

She had already turned around and was disappearing into the crowds of people. D'Artagnan turned back to Aramis who was watching her go with a frown.

"I was only kidding," D'Artagnan muttered, collapsing slightly in his chair.

"She knows that," Aramis explained with a sigh, and reached for his glass again. "You've just learned the only piece of information she's willing to give of her life before she came to the garrison."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **A huge thanks to every review, favourite, follow and read! Even those who haven't read And So It Begins (though I advise it - certain things in A Chevalier To Remember may not make sense without it).**

 **Next chapter brings Iris and D'Artagnan to a morbid encounter, and an meeting with a _friend_ that leaves D'Artagnan red-headed.**

 **I want to apologize in advance if I don't update regularly. It's the season for exams, and every word that isn't html code looks strange to me (I study websites. Making websites. Writing codes. What is reality?)**


	3. Chapter 3

_Where you don't know what you're after_ _  
_ _Or if something's after you_ _  
_ _And you don't know why you don't know_

 _In a world without heroes_ _  
_ _There's nothing to be_ _  
_ _It's no place for me_

A World Without Heroes – Kiss

* * *

Athos had never regretted his decision to find lodging outside of the garrison. Despite spending most of his time there, he liked to be able to leave and be in peace. It was close enough, however, that he didn't feel all that disconnected from what went on in the garrison. He found the distance he walked every morning just right for clearing his head of the hangover that surely would cloud his mind.

After Iris so abruptly left them last night, Aramis had explained how when she'd first came to Paris, even the slightest mention of her past had made her flinch. It was a feeling he knew all too well himself – his own past was something he hadn't shared with any of his friends, and they had accepted that it was just the way Athos was. Not secretive, but not sharing either.

Yet he couldn't help but feeling curious at what she was be holding back. She didn't seem troubled by it, in fact he didn't remember the last time he had seen a woman's smile be so genuine.

And this smile was the first thing he noticed when he walked through the gates of the garrison. Iris was sitting at their usual table by the staircase, chatting animatedly with Serge, the cook. Where she last night could have easily blended into any crowd, she would now stand out wherever she went.

Much of her clothes matched what most of the musketeers wore, boots and breeches. Over a blue shirt she wore a dark brown piece of leather that covered most of her torso and was laced tightly down the side. Somehow she managed to still look incredibly feminine, which was impressive considering the weapons she carried. Lastly his eyes fell upon the pauldron on her shoulder. It showed signs of being treated with great care, but like his own it bore marks of countless battles.

"... so if you ever get tired of running around out there, you know where to find me," Serge said as Athos slid onto the bench opposite her, setting his hat next to him.

"I'll bear that in mind," she called after him as he walked back towards the kitchen.

"I see you're getting acquainted with Serge," he muttered and reached for a basket of bread rolls on the table.

"Have been for several years – I used to help out in the kitchen before my commission."

"I see."

They sat in silence for a moment. It was still early in the morning, but slowly the sounds of the day beginning appeared around them.

"It was you!" she suddenly blurted out, almost causing him to jump.

"What?"

"The day you came to the garrison, someone walked into you not far from here. Am I right?"

He swallowed the piece of bread he had been chewing and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Someone did, but how do you..." he straightened in his seat as realisation hit him. "That _was_ you."

"I didn't realise it at first as I never saw your face, but I recognised the hat," she explained.

"Small world," he muttered. There was a look of amusement on her face, and he felt a tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Sadly, you weren't the first person I walked into that day," she admitted, glancing down at her hands. "You must know how different things were back then."

A shadow slid over her eyes. The memory of the days in the garrison after the massacre in Savoy had rendered the regiment to a vulnerable state.

"Were you-?" He slowly said, but stopped as she quickly shook her head.

"Not in Savoy, no," she finished for him. Her left hand slid to her wrist and she closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, the shadow was gone and she produced a small smile.

"But at least everything seems to have returned to the way it was," she said, letting her eyes glance around the garrison. "I hope they same can be said about Paris."

"If you need someone to help you get reacquainted," he heard himself say, "you only need to ask."

She turned back to look at him. A look of relief and wonder passed over her face and then it was gone.

"I might hold you to that."

"Iris!"

They looked up as D'Artagnan walked through the gates. He looked at her, face full of shame.

"I'm so sorry for last night, I shouldn't have said-"

"Let me stop you there," she interrupted, rising from her seat. "It's been almost thirteen years since my mother died, and even longer since my father did. I've stopped grieving a long time ago – you couldn't possibly have known."

Exhaling deeply, D'Artagnan looked relieved.

"Still, I felt horrible after you left. Some first impression I make," he added with a hint of sarcasm.

"You're easily forgiven. But if you feel like you should make it up to me, there is something you can do."

"Whatever it takes," he assured her.

"Excellent," she said, and as she continued to speak she produced a hairband from a pocket and drew her hair away from her face. "I've spoken to Treville earlier and have received instructions for this morning. We're going to the morgue."

"And what exactly is it you want me to do?" he asked carefully, a frown forming on his face.

"Aramis had this thing about keeping me away from the dead, and for some reason I indulged him, so I have no idea where to go."

"Oh," he said, giving her a nod. "Of course. But of all places, why the morgue?"

"Let me explain on the way," she said casting a parting glance back at Athos who had been watching the two of them with mild interest.

As Iris and D'Artagnan disappeared through the gates, Aramis entered the courtyard from the sleeping quarters. As Iris was gone, Athos felt his mood slowly go back to it's normal state. Aramis sat down in her place, and stretched his arms to the sides.

"Did I hear Iris just now?" he yawned.

"You just missed her. She is dragging D'Artagnan to the morgue," he replied, as Aramis began munching on some of the food on the table.

"Isn't that every man's dream? What could be better than being taken to the morgue so early in the morning, by a woman you've just met?," he snickered. Athos huffed.

"She's quite... cheerful."

"Isn't she though?" Aramis agreed, an admiring look appearing on his face. "She's like that most of the time. It's almost like she has this-" he stopped to chew a piece of bread, and washed it down with a glass of water, "-positive aura that rubs off on the people around her. Very useful in an interrogation," he added.

"Lets hope D'Artagnan doesn't get too caught up in it."

Aramis snorted and shook his head.

"I think we have nothing to fear there – our young friend has his eyes firmly set elsewhere."

* * *

Iris was still carrying the wondrous feeling from her talk with Athos as she and D'Artagnan descended the stairs to the morgue.

By now, she had expected half the musketeers to be working on having her cast out in rage – instead she had been welcomed. _Perhaps people are more likely to accept a woman in their ranks_ , she thought, but then sighed quietly to herself. _Or maybe you're being lulled into a false sense of peace before they strike_. She still remembered how Freer, a good soldier and a man of honour, had reacted after her actions at the palace. He was one of the men who died in Savoy.

They stood at the bottom of the stairs when Iris cleared her mind, and grew serious. Lanterns flickered all around the great room, but none of them seemed to help the temperature. A shiver ran through her, most likely at the thought of what she was about to do. She had seen plenty of death in the past years – often because she brought it upon people herself.

She rarely killed unless she saw no other way. Since taking her first life to save the queen, and herself, she had tried her best to distance herself from it all. Marsac's soothing words from back then stayed with her – there truly was a fine line between killing because you wanted to and because you needed to. All too often she had come face to face with those who took pleasure from it, and she was more than thankful for never having felt that herself.

As she spotted the undertaker she moved towards him, D'Artagnan trailing behind her. The undertaker glanced up as they neared him, and brushed his hands off on his apron. Iris decided it might be best not to shake hands with him.

"We're here on business for the kings musketeers," she began, an authoritative edge to her voice. D'Artagnan recognised it in Athos as well. The undertaker narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, and then shrugged. Musketeers often appeared to take a look around when working a case.

"I need to take a look at some of the men who's recently been brought here. Probably somewhere between the nameless," she continued.

"The nameless lies over there," he said, gesturing to a corner. "Let me know if I can help in any way."

Iris nodded her thanks and moved towards the section they were directed.

"I don't know how he stays down here with _them_ ," D'Artagnan muttered, looking over his shoulder at the undertaker. "I'd grow mad in a matter of hours."

"Sadly, it's a necessity. Rather him than me," she whispered in return and shivered again.

"How will this help?" D'Artagnan asked as they stopped by the first table in that section. She glanced down at the covered body and took a deep breath.

"If I can recognise one of the informants, we may be able to track down someone who were with him before he died," she explained, reaching a hand out to lift the white cloth. A strange smell wafted through the air, and she almost gagged. Replacing the cloth, she looked at D'Artagnan and shook her head. As they moved on to the next people, she continued her explanation with a low voice.

"I don't know any of them personally, but I've met most of the informants at some point. Treville had me do some work here and there during the years, and whenever I met someone who showed promise I pointed them in the direction of the man who controls it all."

D'Artagnan slowly nodded, listening with great interest.

"These are all men who has nothing," she continued, "with nothing to loose, acting as a shadow gets easier. I stayed with their leader, Henri, briefly some time ago... in exchange for what they do for the musketeers, he makes sure they're fed and healthy. There's an abandoned house in a run-down part of Paris where they sleep – it's easier to keep them out of sight that way."

As she moved the cloth at the men they reached, she flinched. A young boy, barely a man, with long dark hair lay before them.

"Francis," she whispered, a flash of anger passing through her. He was far too young for a fate like this. Covering him again, she looked at D'Artagnan who stood on the other side. The look on his face told her he shared her feelings.

"It's not a good way to live, but it's a life nonetheless. Gives them a sense of purpose – they deserve more than they have."

* * *

The two of them breathed a sigh of relief when they ascended the stairs and stepped into the light again. After Francis, she had recognised two men, Noah and one who called himself Ash.

"I don't understand how they're discovered," she mused as they walked back to the garrison. "Very few people know who these men are, they're trained in keeping their identities hidden."

"Perhaps there is someone on the inside who is passing information to the wrong sort," he suggested darkly. Iris shot him a troubled look.

"I hope not. The mere thought... but it's worth to be mentioned. Every possibility should be considered."

"Can I admit something?" he said after a moment, looking straight ahead. Iris hummed in consent.

"I'm quite impressed by how quickly you learned to fight. More women should have the courage to do something like that."

Iris felt a smile grown on her face, the lingering feeling of the morgue evaporating.

"I understand you're in training to become a musketeer yourself?"

A look of determination appeared on his face – so familiar to her.

"Someday, hopefully. I've always had an interest in sword-fighting, and everything the musketeers stands for... well it-"

"-feels right," she said in unison with him, grinning. "I had that same feeling when I began."

They continued their discussion as they crossed a small marketplace, sharing techniques when D'Artagnan's eyes widened and his smile grew wider. Iris followed his line of sight, and saw a woman with red hair stand at a cart selling fresh vegetables. She wore a neat yellow dress, and carried a basket filled with eggs and what looked like a fish wrapped in paper. Iris glanced at D'Artagnan.

"Someone special?" she asked. He let out an indifferent sound, and Iris fought to hold back a laugh. _Good lord, someone is lost._

"Don't mind me," she said jokingly, "I'm all for standing here all day looking at beautiful women."

He hummed again, and turned to look at her. His smile faded away as he saw the mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Oh no, no no no. It's not like that – I don't..." he stammered and glanced back at the woman. "She's a friend – my landlady actually."

"Oh, your landlady. So it doesn't matter that she is staring at us right now?"

He turned back to see the woman look in their direction with a frown, and a faint red colour began spreading on his face.

"She looks nice, but I should probably introduce myself. Wouldn't want to give your landlady the wrong impression," she continued, watching the red colour deepen. He cleared his throat and looked at her.

"No, of course not."

Iris followed him as he walked over to the woman, who had discovered the pauldron on her shoulder and was now looking at her with confusion.

"Hello Constance," he greeted her as they came within earshot. The woman, Constance, looked at him and then back at Iris.

"I thought you said you had some urgent business with the musketeers," she replied, cocking her head to the side. Iris stepped forward.

"So he did, and it's taken care of. I'm Iris Chevalier, of the kings musketeers."

Constance blinked.

"Sounds mad, yes, but I promise you I'm being very serious."

"I had no idea there were any female musketeers," she said questioning, turning to D'Artagnan.

"Just Iris," he admitted.

"I returned to Paris last night," Iris explained. "I've been gone for so long, I barely know how to find my way anywhere. D'Artagnan and I were on our way back when we found you."

"But we should get back to the garrison," D'Artagnan quickly said, gently nudging Iris away.

"It was nice meeting you," Iris called over her shoulder. As they turned a corner, he sighed.

"Thank you for that," he muttered, shaking his head slightly.

"I didn't do anything," Iris admitted, but had a hard time covering up her smile.

"I know what you may think, but she really is just a friend. Constance is married."

"You forget, D'Artagnan," she said, giving him a knowing look, "I've known Aramis for a long time. I've seen plenty of times how he looked at a woman – like you did just now."

He let out a nervous laugh, and began walking away.

"You're mistaken, but I'll let it slide. You couldn't have known." He half turned back to her.

"In fact, I think this makes us even. Lets say no more about it."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **A strange first meeting with Constance - D'Artagnan may have a thing or two to explain when he sees her again.**

 **In the next chapter, Iris and Aramis discuss which of them have the better aim - and set it to the test. She also returns to the palace, and get's some unexpected one-on-one time with Athos.**


	4. Chapter 4

_Been a long time, but it feels right  
And when it feels right, it's good to find  
And I found it, found it right back  
Me and the old place, what's done is done  
What's done is done. _

Done – Twin Forks

* * *

Aramis glanced at Iris as she tried to cover another yawn – that made it three times in the last ten minutes. Though her eyes remained vigilant, her posture told the story of a somewhat sleepless night.

"If you weren't up for this, I'm sure the captain would understand-"

"I'm just a bit tired Aramis, nothing more. I can easily manage this."

Sighing, he surveyed the area again. They had been patrolling the gardens at the palace that morning, walking through the many garden paths every so often to check for anything out of order.

 _At least it's a sunny day_ , he thought as he remembered how he and Porthos had spent countless hours standing in the pouring rain at that very same spot.

Iris yawned again.

"Don't you sleep at night?" he tried again, giving her a look of worry. Iris closed her eyes and exhaled deeply.

"I kept having this dream... in the end I just gave up on trying to sleep."

"Something you want to talk about?"

Still with her eyes closed, she considered sharing her thoughts with him. The previous night she had been on her way back to the garrison after bringing a message to the informants on Treville's orders. As there was no definite place to find an informant, so she had been walking along the Seine for a long time before finding one. There was an easy way to recognise an informant – all wore a band of black cloth around their right arm. It wasn't always easy to see, but it was there. This particular one was seated against a tree, holding out a beaten up hat containing a few coins he had gathered. She knew better than to believe the whole beggar charade. Despite the informants not having much, they had their own base in a run-down part of Paris, where shelter and food was provided for them. The begging was merely an excuse for musketeers to approach them without attaining any attention.

Leaning down to throw a few coins into the hat, she locked eyes with the young man before her. He glanced down at the hat, saw the note she had placed there as well, and gave her a nod in understanding. After walking away, she glanced back and saw that he had left his place under the tree. It was then she saw someone watching her. He didn't look familiar, but she was sure he was staring at her.

It wasn't all that unusual for someone to stare at her. Wearing men's clothing and carrying her sword drew a lot of unwanted attention towards her. Averting her eyes for a moment, she wondered if he could have been following her, but when she returned her eyes he was going off in another direction.

Her dreams that night had been plagued by the stares of several people. Whenever she would try seek them out, they would disappear into the crowds of the people around her and then reappear another place.

"I'm sure it's nothing," she admitted, giving him an assuring smile. "There's just a lot on my mind these days."

Not looking convinced but deciding to leave the matter be, he gave her a smile in return.

"I haven't had the chance to ask you yet," Aramis began whilst kicking a small stone that lay on the ground before him. They watched it fly through the air and disappear into some bushes. "What do you think of the others?"

"Your friends? They have all been quite welcoming," she thought of the offer from Athos to be reintroduced to Paris and the talk she and D'Artagnan had after leaving the morgue. "In fact, they've all behaved like perfect gentlemen."

She stopped and glanced mischievously at him.

"It's important to you that I like them, isn't it?"

"It would be preferable if you did. Wouldn't want any unwelcome tensions in my little family," he said teasingly.

"Now, now. Don't get ahead of yourself," she grinned, "I've only been here a few days. Perhaps I will change my mind about them when I learn all their deep and dark secrets."

* * *

When they returned from another trip around the garden paths, they were surprised to see two musketeers standing in their place. Aramis frowned as they neared.

"Aren't you a bit early? We still have a few hours left of out shift."

"Captains orders," one of them muttered. "The two of you are to return to the garrison immediately."

Iris cocked an eyebrow at them.

"Did he happen to mention why?"

"I don't ask questions I know I wont get an answer to, Mademoiselle," the other one said with a shrug. "But it did seem important. He had that look."

"If there was a look we'd better get going," Aramis gave them a nod and turned to walk away. Before getting out of earshot, Iris heard them whisper something and had the feeling they were watching her leave.

"How long will _that_ continue?" she demanded, feeling her shoulders tense. Aramis glanced back at the two musketeers and then at her.

" _That_ will most likely follow you for the rest of your life. I thought after five years you would have gotten used to it."

"If anything, I've learned to ignore it."

"A little bit of attention can't hurt," he placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a knowing smile. "I know for a fact women love being noticed."

Iris snorted and shook his hand off her shoulder.

"If I needed that sort of attention, I might know how to handle it. If not, I certainly know how to be rid of it."

* * *

They went straight to Treville's office when they returned to the garrison. He looked up as they entered, and leaned back in his chair.

"This must be important since you take us away from our very crucial guarding of the palace gardens," Aramis began, a joking glint in his eyes. Treville turned his attention to Iris, as though he hadn't heard what Aramis had said.

"I've received an answer to the note you delivered to the informants yesterday," he explained. Iris waited expectantly for him to continue, and Aramis grew serious next to her.

"It would seem that plenty of the informants have experienced being watched or followed," Treville continued. Iris felt a slight shiver go through her as he mentioned them being watched. "though it mostly seems to happen when they move about at night. The murders have happened around that time as well."

He reached up a hand and began massaging his neck.

"I've already informed Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan. I need you all to watch over their current lodgings tonight – no interference unless necessary, of course. If there is even the slightest we can learn from this, we'll have to take it."

A tired edge came to his voice.

"I've split the five of you in two groups – one goes north and one south of the place. Iris," he turned to look at her, "I've informed Athos that you will be joining him north. Will that be a problem?"

"I don't see why it would be," she said with a shrug. Treville gave her a satisfied nod.

"I wont have to remind either of you that you should go unnoticed out there."

There was silent for a moment and Iris felt two pairs of eyes fall on her.

"Oh, are you implying that I, the only female musketeer in the regiment, cant pass unnoticed in a broken and poor part of Paris?" she asked sarcastically.

"Just keep your face hidden, that's all I ask. You'll be met by the others at the gates when the sun begins to set. Rest up till then."

* * *

"Was that an indirect way of ordering me not to carry any visible weapons?" Iris asked quietly as they descended the stairs into the courtyard.

"I'm sure you can find a way to hide your pistol," Aramis shrugged and turned to her.

"He said no interference, so there's really no reason to bring it. I'll do just fine with a few knives."

"Knives?" Aramis repeated, crossing his arms over his chest with a sceptical look on his face. "Say you're attacked out there and Athos has no time to watch out for you. What will you do then?"

"First of all," she said slowly, looking at him sternly, "I've been working more or less on my own for five years. I don't _need_ anyone to watch out for me. Secondly, my aim is near perfect when it comes to this sort of thing. I'll be fine."

"Near perfect?" A competitive spark appeared in his eyes. "You're saying you can hit anything – _anything_ – with a simple knife?"

"You may be good with a musket, great even, but I've had plenty of time to learn. A _simple knife_ is more than enough for me."

He stared at her for a moment, and then went to pick up an apple from the table.

"By all means, show me. Prove me wrong."

He nodded towards a target someone had left out. Iris stared at him with risen eyebrows.

"Unless you don't think you can hit a moving target of course," he continued, a smile playing on his lips. Iris felt her own competitiveness come alive, and reached into her boot for the knife she carried there.

" _When_ I do this, you'll be quiet?" she asked, twirling the knife in her hands.

" _If_ you do it, I'll say no more about it."

Iris turned to the target and flexed her fingers. This was yet another challenge from Aramis that she would complete. He used to always do this sort of thing – despite knowing that she might be able to what he asked, he would still pretend that she couldn't. The apple flew into the air and a second later the knife sunk into it and brought it straight to the target.

"Anything else?" she smirked as she want to retrieve the knife. He chuckled and shook his head as she made her way towards her room.

"You be careful Iris – one day the knives will let you down!" he called after her.

* * *

They met up with the others as the sun began it's descent. As they made their way towards the run-down part of Paris, they discussed what to be on the lookout for. Iris, who had spent a good part of the afternoon catching up on some much needed sleep, stayed mostly quiet.

When they reached a fork in the road, they made agreements to meet back at the garrison when they sun had begun it's rise. Before walking away, a cheeky face slipped over Aramis' face.

"Be sure to let her rest, Athos. She gets irritable when she's sleepy."

"Have you ever considered that it's not the lack of sleep but the lack of decent company, Aramis?" she retorted with joyful glint in her eye. As she and Athos took off down the road that led to the northern part, they could still hear the distant sound of Porthos laughter.

"Has it always been like this between the two of you?" He asked after a few moments of silence.

"We may bicker, but we both mean well. He's the closest thing I have to family," she explained.

"There's been a change in him since your return. For all of us in fact," he noted glancing at her. The genuinely happy smile had returned.

"A good change, I hope."

"I'd say."

They continued a little farther, when Athos began scouring the area. The houses around them had turned older and broken since parting with the others, showing traces of how no one took care of them.

"We should find somewhere to take shelter," he muttered, looking around.

"I happen to know just the place."

Narrowing his eyes in confusion, he followed her down a road, and into a small backyard. She glanced up the side of the house, reaching out a hand to touch the plants that covered the wall. Athos stopped next to her and glanced up at the window.

"You want us to climb up there?"

* * *

 **A/N**

 **It would seem that sleep-deprivation and exam stress isn't good for the creative-writing-process, but oh well. All of your reviews and continued reading (over 500 reads!) keep me going through it all.**

 **Anyone who can guess where Iris has brought Athos?**

 **Next up; Iris and Athos talk, and ends up in a situation where they need to trust each other...**


	5. Chapter 5

_Somewhere deep in the dark  
A howling beast hears us talk.  
I dare you to close your eyes  
And see all the colours in disguise.  
Running into the night,  
The earth is shaking and I see a light.  
The light is blinding my eyes  
As the soft walls eat us alive._

Yellow Light – Of Monsters And Men

* * *

Athos stared at her as though he was trying to figure out whether or not she was serious. Iris glanced up at the still bare window one floor above them, and then looked back at him.

"No, how silly of me," she began, making sure the irony was clear in her voice. "Of course we should go to the other side of the house and enter by the front door, leaving whomever might be watching to wonder what the two of us are doing all night, _alone_ , in an abandoned house."

"You may have a point," he muttered, and brought his attention to the window again. "Still, it seems like an awful lot of trouble just to get inside."

Iris gave the plants a tug, and was satisfied to see that they still seemed strong.

"I thought the same the first time I came here – then Aramis assured me it was all part of the challenge."

"Why would Aramis bring you here?" Athos asked, watching her as she searched for something beneath the thick plants. After a moment she found what she was looking for, and began scaling the wall.

"This is where I trained," she called over her shoulder, already halfway there. She looked certain in her movements, and it was obvious that she had done this plenty of times before. When she reached the window, he was close behind her.

Iris pulled herself through the window, and straightened when her feet met the floor. Though the light from the sun was nearly gone, it was still easy enough to see everything around her.

Five years hadn't made that much of a difference on the place. The holes in the ceiling and the fading tapestry on the wall looked just like the last time she had set foot there. Stepping further into the room, she gave Athos room to come through the window as well.

When he examined the room, a funny expression appeared on his face.

"This would not be my first choice of training space," he commented, raising an eyebrow.

"When you're in need, you take what you get," she replied, removing the cloak she wore. "I could hardly wield a sword in the courtyard of the garrison without being noticed, could I?"

"I doubt you can wield a sword anywhere without being noticed."

"Touché."

Athos spotted a boarded up window on the other side of the room and walked closer to look through one of the cracks.

"We should be able to see if anything happens from here," Iris said as she came to a stop next to him.

"Which house is it? Treville wasn't clear on that."

"Six houses down, on the right."

"The grey one that looks like it's about to collapse?"

"No," she said with a smile and reached out a hand to gently turn his head an inch to the left. "The _yellow_ one that is about to collapse."

Athos had flinched at the touch as though he had been burned. Iris quickly let her hand drop, and narrowed her eyes.

"Something wrong?"

"Not at all," he muttered and took a deep breath. "Your hand is just very cold."

 _Not to mention that I cant remember the last time a woman touched me – not counting my not-so-dead ex-wife holding a knife to my throat_.

A grin appeared on her face as she moved away from him.

"I'm sorry, they're always like that. Nothing I can do helps – that really isn't necessary," she added as he began removing his own gloves one finger at a time. When he held them out to her, she simply stared at him.

"That isn't necessary," she repeated.

"Don't make me insist. That's almost too cold to be healthy."

After a moment, she slowly reached out a hand and took them.

"This is different," she admitted as she began pulling them on. "I must have grown so used to working alone; I've forgotten what it is like to have someone look out for me."

* * *

A man moved through the shadows of a nearby tavern. There was barely any lights, but some flickering candles spread around on the tables. He looked over the crowds, till he recognised the one he was looking for.

"My lord! My lord, we have an opportunity!" he whispered excitedly as he neared a table in the corner.

The man at the table didn't look up from the glass of wine he had been nursing for some time now.

"If you have an opportunity, explain to me what you're doing here," he replied in a tired voice. The newly arrived man swallowed hardly.

"She is not alone... there is a man with her-"

"Who?"

"I believe he is another musketeer, my lord. They've entered an abandoned house not far from here-"

A satisfied smile appeared on the face of the man at the table.

"We do indeed have an opportunity," he muttered to himself and drained the rest of the wine in his glass. "You know your orders – under no circumstance is she to be harmed. Wait till she leaves this house, and take her when she's in the streets. And should she return to a more public space, you pull back. Understand?"

"Yes – yes my lord. But what about the man?"

"What do I care," he gestured for a waitress to come and fill his glass again. "If he's in the way, you may as well dispose of him."

His head turned to the man who stood before him.

"Know that there will be consequences if you fail. We have waited for many years – I'm growing weary of following her around."

The man bowed and began retreating.

"She will be at your mercy in a matter of hours, my lord."

A waitress came by to fill his glass, and he raised it victoriously to his lips.

 _I've got you now, Chevalier_.

* * *

Athos and Iris had settled on the floor by the window, both finding a narrow crack in the boards that covered it to look over the street below them.

"I've been wondering," Athos began hesitantly, "why a women like you ends up a musketeer."

Iris moved her gaze from the street to him. They had both quickly adapted to the darkness, and could therefore easily make out where the other was. There was nothing to make a light inside the house, which they had decided was for the best as a flickering light in an abandoned house would attract attention.

"Why does anyone end up a musketeer? Fighting for king and country, doing good in the world, using whatever skill we have."

A small smile appeared on her face.

"You know, I never wanted this. I never had any ambitions to do any of that. It may be the only decision someone has made for me that I've learned to appreciate."

He turned to look at her with a frown.

"Do people often make decisions for you?"

The smile on her face faded away and a dark look came over her eye.

"Perhaps in another life... I came to Paris to be a free woman, whatever it might take. The thought of someone else being in control-" a shiver went through her and her eyes seemed to darken even further "-of my life... I believe I would rather die."

She took a deep breath and looked away.

"This must all sound very dramatic to you."

"I can assure you that I have my own share of drama lurking in the shadows," Athos muttered, images of Anne and his family home engulfed in flames flashing through his mind. Iris blinked a few times, and her expression softened.

"It's not something I like to talk about. Everything that happened in my life prior to entering the garrison for the first time seems pointless. I'm not that person anymore."

"I understand the sentiment – even share it."

They sat in silence for a moment, before Iris let out an involuntary chuckle.

"What are the odds that I should meet another broken soul in a place like this?"

Athos huffed, and despite just being called broken he smiled.

"Perhaps broken souls are drawn to each other."

"Perhaps," she agreed, toying absent-mindedly with the bracelet on her wrist. He looked at it, really seeing it for the first time.

"That's an interesting bracelet," he said, trying to change the subject.

"Hmm," she looked down at it and then at him. "Keepsake. A gift from my father to my mother, who then passed it on to me."

"And the charm, is that simply a happy coincidence?"

"It was a gift from a friend – a reminder of where my allegiance lies," she explained, eyeing the brass fleur-de-lis affectionately.

"Oh." A strange feeling settled in his gut. "Must have been a dear friend."

"He was," Iris sighed. Glancing up at him, she got that mischievous look in her eyes she had when she joked with Aramis. "But not in the way you think."

"And what do I think?" he countered, raising an eyebrow.

"That I carry a token of love, not of friendship."

"Is it so strange that I would assume you have someone special in your life?"

Iris laugh was unexpected, but the almost musical sound of it was relaxing to him.

"Far from it. If men do not treat me like the musketeers personal prostitute, they usually find a way to avoid me. It would seem I can be a bit... intimidating."

"Surely this doesn't count for all of us – of course I cannot speak for the entirety of my gender, but when I look at you I see neither a prostitute nor am I intimidated," he argued, leaning slightly towards her.

"Then you must be one of the rare exceptions," Iris turned her eyes back on the street below them. "I hardly live up to what is expected of women. I am 23 years old, unmarried and childless. To make matters worse, I'm a female soldier. Certainly not wife material."

"It would seem all you need is someone who will accept you to be both soldier and wife," Athos said quietly, watching her reaction. A radiant smile had appeared on her face.

"If such a man exists, I would like to make his acquaintance."

* * *

The streets were quiet through the night. Though this part of Paris was mostly deserted, it seemed more quiet than normally. Now and then they thought they spotted movement in the shadows, only to discover it was a stray cat.

Sometime after midnight, Iris nodded off. She had been leaning her head against the wall when her eyes fell shut, and her breathing slowed. Looking away from the spot he had been watching for the last ten minutes, he let his eyes linger on her instead.

 _How can any man find you intimidating?_ He thought to himself as she shifted slightly to get more comfortable.

Even while sleeping, she was every bit as stunning as when she was awake. The maturity he had noticed when first meeting her was still there, but not as evident. He had called her innocent, and for once she looked it.

He brought his eyes back on the street, and found it just as he had left it. It had been a long time since he had spent any length of time near a woman, an attractive one at that, and found himself comfortable. After having to sentence his wife to death, he had sworn off women from his life. Over the years he still found himself able to appreciate the beauty of a woman, but he would never be as obvious about it as Porthos or Aramis were. Of course, neither or them had suffered such a betrayal of the heart as he had.

Now knowing Anne was still alive, perhaps he could find a way to relieve himself of the guilt he had carried since sending her straight to the noose. Iris had been right when she said he was broken. Maybe this would be a good time to start mending himself.

 _As if that's possible_ , a little voice inside him said. It was the same voice that drove him to drinking time and time again. The voice that followed him in his dreams. The voice that now assured him that the woman next to him would run screaming away if she had any idea of who he really was.

As if on cue, Iris opened her eyes and stretched her arms in front of her.

"Would it be terribly inappropriate of me to wish for _something_ to happen down there, just for something to do?"

* * *

The night came and went, with nothing special to report. When the first signs of colour appeared on the sky, Athos rose from his place by the window, and almost winced at the sore feeling in his legs.

Navigating down the wall in almost complete darkness proved easier than either of them had imagined. Soon enough they were on their way out of the broken and battered part of town.

"It's unlikely the others will have anything of use, judging by how quiet our night has been," Athos murmured. He was beginning to feel the exhaustion of being alert all night. Iris shrugged and drew her cloak closer. The air was chilly this morning.

They walked for a bit in comfortable silence when she heard footsteps echo towards them. It was early for someone to walking about, especially in this part of town.

"Athos," she said in a low voice, glancing at him. His shoulders had tensed slightly.

"I know," he muttered quietly, letting his eyes glide over the shadows in front of them. "Just keep walking..."

He put a light hand on the upper part of her back, and guided her down a street that led back to where they had come from. As the sound of the footsteps followed them, their suspicions were confirmed. Someone was following them.

* * *

"Well, that's a night wasted," Porthos grunted.

"Perhaps Athos and Iris have something of interest," D'Artagnan muttered and yawned loudly. To stay awake, Porthos and Aramis had spent most of the night giving each other small challenges. It hadn't been many hours before he had begun wishing for peace Athos always seemed to bring out in the two musketeers.

The moment they stepped into the courtyard, Treville appeared on the porch by his office. They had a sense he had been waiting for them.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Didn't see or hear a thing through the night. I'm sure Athos and Iris told you the same," Aramis sat down heavily at the table. He was beginning to feel tired and was looking forward to some rest before beginning the day.

"I wouldn't know, would I, as they have yet to report."

"They're not back yet?" Porthos blurted as Aramis head snapped back to look at the captain.

"But they should have returned first – we had to go all the way around that part of town to come back," D'Artagnan said with a frown.

"Perhaps we should go look for them," Aramis offered, slowly rising from the bench again. Treville shook his head.

"I'm sure they're on their way back as we speak. Let us give them a bit more time before we start worrying."

* * *

His thoughts went straight to Anne. Had she not promised him she would get her revenge? But it seemed too easy – somehow he felt sure she would make a spectacle of his death. Glancing at Iris he hoped he was wrong. Capable or not to defend herself, she should not be caught in the crossfire. No one should have to deal with his problems but himself.

Iris found herself remembering the man who had been watching her some days before. Though she had no idea who he was, or why he would be following her, she had a strange sensation that the two were connected. Only one person who would have her followed like this came to mind, but it seemed impossible... it had been far too long...

"Any suggestions?" she asked quietly, and another set of footsteps was heard behind them. Her heart began to beat faster.

"I have a feeling there's more than just the two of them," he replied, keeping his voice just low enough for her to hear. His eyes were narrowed in concentration as he kept watching the shadows around them. Every narrow street on both sides of the street seemed to radiate danger, and Iris tensed at what would come. Though she had wished for something to happen earlier, this wasn't exactly what she had in mind. Her speech to Aramis earlier about being just find with the knives she carried seemed to loose it's importance as she had a sudden need to hold her sword in her hand. If only it didn't rest on her bed back at the garrison.

"Perhaps now would be a good time to get reintroduced to the streets of Paris," he whispered. Her eyes narrowed as she turned to look at him.

"What are you-" she began, but stopped speaking as he removed his hand from her back and took a firm hold of her hand. A second later he dragged her with him down a dark side street.

The second they disappeared from sight, the sound of their pursuers quickened. Athos and Iris broke into a run themselves. As Iris was unfamiliar with their surroundings, she kept close to Athos' side.

He led her down several streets, going between houses and then changing direction at the last moment. The sounds of more pursuers reached them. _How many are there_? Iris thought angrily.

They came to a sudden stop in the narrow space between two houses, and Iris nearly collided with Athos. He cursed under his breath and turned around. From what she could see, a look of frustration covered his features. Despite standing less than a foot away from him, she had a hard time seeing him clearly through the darkness they stood in.

"This isn't supposed to be blocked," he hissed quietly, looking her in the eyes. She swallowed as his look of frustration turned apologetic.

"It's not your fault," she whispered. His eyes lingered on hers for a moment before going over her shoulder. She felt pressure on the hand he still held, and watched his eyes go dark.

"Don't. Move."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Writing and rewriting... rewriting again, and here we are!**

 **Athos and Iris are backed into a corner; Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan are far away, unaware of the danger their friends are in; what will happen next?**

 **(now 700+ reads - you guys! You shouldn't have... or. You should. Keep reading, reviewing, favouring and following. It makes this fan-fic writer ever so happy)**


	6. Chapter 6

_I swam into the ocean deep_ _  
_ _The waves they tried to bury me_ _  
_ _But I was strong_ _  
_ _I was brave_ _  
_ _They pushed me down_ _  
_ _But I escaped_

Hold My Breath – Ross Copperman

* * *

Iris barely dared to breathe. Behind her, she could hear the sounds of people running back and forth in the alley that led to their hiding place. She knew that the slightest sound or movement could draw attention to them, so she held herself perfectly still.

It was almost painful. She could sense them behind her, and her mind was screaming for her to turn around and face her enemies. There wasn't even a possibility to reach for the knife she always carried in her boot. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Athos' free hand twitch toward the pistol he carried on his belt. His eyes were still fixed over her shoulder.

The only thing keeping them hidden now was the darkness of the night – but the sun was slowly rising, and both of them knew they wouldn't be able to stay there for long.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that. As the sounds of their pursuers began to fade, Athos finally looked at her again. Her heart began beating faster. Over the past couple of years she had been working mostly on her own, with the occasional exception of whomever she was helping out at the moment, so she was used to only looking out for herself. Somehow she knew he would have her back – Aramis and Treville seemed to trust Athos and his friends, so why shouldn't she?

Not to mention how kind he had been to her in the few days they had known each other. Despite the fact that she usually found it easy to connect with new people, their conversations during the night had made her feel relaxed and comfortable.

Had she ever been this close to a man before? One who didn't pull her closer for his own enjoyment, but purely for her protection. In his own way, even in the darkness, he was very handsome...

 _Focus Iris. This is not the time!_

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. The adrenaline must be getting to her head.

"Are they gone?" she breathed. It was quiet for a moment, before he whispered his answer.

"I believe so."

She stood still for another moment, gathering her thoughts before opening her eyes again.

"You can let go now," she continued, her voice slightly higher than a whisper. He frowned and looked down at the hand he still held on tightly to, as though he had forgotten doing so. Immediately after he let go, she flexed her hand to get the blood flowing again. Taking a step away to create some space between them, Iris glanced back down the narrow alley they stood in.

"Do you think they're the ones we've been looking for all night?" Iris mused.

"It's possible." Athos hesitated. "Under any circumstance, I'd like a word with one of them. Being followed doesn't sit well with me."

A slight smile appeared on her face as she bent down to find her knife.

"By all means, let's get out of here."

Athos took the lead, with Iris following closely after. Both of them moved as lightly as they could, unsure of what they would find around the corner. Clutching her knife in one hand, Iris glanced around the corner and found the street deserted.

"All clear."

Looking back one more time, Iris was surprised to see just how dark it still was there. The blockade could easily have been their undoing, but instead it had provided them just enough cover to stay unnoticed.

Athos began moving to the right. He held on to his pistol, watching every shadow they passed carefully.

"It's too quiet," she noted after a few seconds, straining her ears. The only sounds she heard were their own footsteps.

"They might have moved on to another are, but somehow that seems too easy."

"You should try optimism sometime," Iris joked. He briefly glanced at her. Despite the concentrated expression on his face, there was a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"I'm afraid optimism isn't something one can afford in our line of work."

"That is exactly what someone lacking optimism would say."

They stopped when they reached the end of the street. A house stood before them, and the street they had been following branched off in two streets, one on either side of the house.

"Both lead along the row of houses, and connects again at the other side," he explained. "From what I can guess, this is the way they went."

"So... we split up?" Iris asked with a raised eyebrow. Athos turned to her, considering it. The thought didn't seem to please him.

"How long is this street?" she tried again. He shrugged.

"A quarter of a mile, perhaps less-"

"No more than five minutes then."

Still not looking fully convinced, Athos sighed and looked down the left street.

"Keep an eye on the corners – they could be lying in wait for something like this."

"Your concern is touching, but this isn't my first time," she gave him an assuring smile, and began walking down the right street.

* * *

The sky had turned into a light rosy colour. Having spent so much time in the darkness, Iris found it easy what did or didn't hide in the shadows. As she neared the end of the street she heard footsteps again, and quickly moved into the nearest shadows she could find. A person wearing a dark cloak with a hood moved towards her hiding place, and she tensed up. When he passed, her instincts took over and she leapt forwards. The man was caught by surprise as she shoved him against the nearest wall and brought her knife to his throat.

"WHOA, WHOA. EASY!"

The familiar voice startled her for a moment, and the knife moved an inch back.

"... Aramis?"

"I take it back! You'll do just fine with a simple knife... just do it far away from my throat," Aramis croaked. Iris blinked, feeling the adrenaline ebb out, and moved away from him.

"My compliments to monsieur Navarre," he said, gently rubbing his throat where the blade had lingered a moment ago. "You're much stronger and faster than I remember."

An involuntary chuckle escaped Iris and she began shaking her head.

"What are you doing here?"

The look of admiration that had appeared on his face faded away, and was replaced by a serious expression.

"When you didn't return we started to worry. I know that both you and Athos aren't likely to be late unless something is very wrong. The captain thought we should wait, but I insisted."

"We were followed," she said, glancing down the street. "I swear, it's like a game of cat and mouse and I cannot figure out who's who."

Aramis also glanced around.

"Where _is_ Athos?"

"We split up a few minutes ago."

He turned back to her with a frown.

"Despite being followed, you thought it a good idea to split up?"

"Have I not just proven that I am perfectly able to watch my own back?"

"Of course," he said, hesitating slightly. "And I'm perfectly aware that Athos can do the same. Still, it seems-"

His words trailed off as the sound of a pistol being fired echoed towards them. Aramis tensed and Iris felt her eyes widen.

 _Oh god, no_...

Aramis set off towards the place where the two streets connected, with Iris right behind him. When they turned the corner, they were met by two raised pistols. As Porthos and D'Artagnan recognised them, they quickly lowered their guns.

"There you are," Porthos muttered, nodding to Aramis.

Iris let her eyes go behind them, and felt relieved to see Athos lean over a body on the ground. He looked up as they appeared, and then turned his attention to the man on the ground again.

"What happened?" Aramis gestured towards them.

"We only just got here," D'Artagnan began, putting his pistol back in his belt. "This guy came out of nowhere, going straight for Athos. Luckily, Athos was faster."

The four of them moved closer, and Iris could see a pool of blood spread from underneath the man.

"I'm not even going to bother with that," Aramis sighed, looking darkly at the man. "He wont survive much longer."

Athos rose from his position on the ground and walked back to them.

"It's not going to work, he isn't saying a word. Had I discovered him a moment earlier I might have aimed to wound instead of kill, so we could get some answers," he glanced back at the man on the ground who was having a hard time breathing.

"Perhaps you need a gentler approach," Iris said, moving slowly towards the man on the ground.

"Gentler? The man followed you AND tried to kill Athos," D'Artagnan crossed his arms looking sceptical. Porthos looked at Aramis with a raised eyebrow, and Aramis simply shrugged.

Iris sank to her knees next to the man, careful to avoid the blood, and leaned over him. He was helplessly grasping at his side where blood was still flowing. He looked up at her with fright in his eyes.

"Don't be afraid," she said in a quiet soothing voice. She placed a gentle hand on his forehead and felt him quivering. _You may have just tried to murder one of my fellow musketeers_ , she thought with revulsion, _but we need answers_.

"Tell me your name," she continued, giving him a tender smile. The man swallowed hardly, and blinked.

"De... Denis," he stuttered.

"Tell me Denis," she continued. The four men behind her had gone quiet. Even Aramis hadn't seen her do something like this before. "Why would you try to kill my friend?"

He took another ragged breath, and tried to look away. Iris firmly held his head still, forcing him to look at her.

"Your comrades have left you, and you're going to die." Though the words were harsh, she somehow made it sound comforting. "I'll stay right here with you so you wont be alone, but in return I need to know why you've been following us."

Swallowing hardly again, he groaned in pain. Iris felt her patience begin to wear thin. It had been a long night – the last thing she needed was to persuade a dying man to speak the truth.

"Are you the ones who have been killing informants of the musketeers?"

He began to frown, but quickly brought his face back to it's blank expression again. Not fast enough for Iris not to see it however, and she was convinced that he knew nothing of it. Taking a deep breath she leaned closer to him.

"Were you after Athos and I personally?"

He tried desperately not to show any form of response. Had he not been dying, this would be one of those men who would fight long and hard in an interrogation.

"No one will punish you for speaking now," she continued, seeing that he was moments away from his last breath. "I just need to know who's in charge of this."

 _I have to know. I have to know if you came for Athos... or for me_.

Denis slowly tried to shake his head. A shudder went through him, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Groaning under her breath, Iris closed his eyes and stood up. The tender expression and gentle behaviour disappeared from her as quickly as it had appeared. Walking back to the others, she ran a hand over her eyes.

"Well, he was loyal, I'll give him that," she muttered as she came to a stop next to D'Artagnan.

"What was that?" Porthos asked, nodding towards Denis.

"In my experience, men grow afraid when they know they're going to die. A kind face is sometimes what is needed to get a last confession," she shrugged, "through obviously not in this case."

"He said nothing?" Athos asked, an expression of wonder on his face. She turned to him with a serious expression.

"I'm certain that it has nothing to do with the informants. Which leaves the question – did they come for one of us specifically, or was it simply a coincidence?"

* * *

"Say that again. SAY IT AGAIN!"

The leader stepped forward from his group of men, and took a deep breath.

"My lord, they hid in the darkness, and we're joined by three others by the time we found them again-"

"EXCUSES. WAS I NOT PROMISED THAT YOU WOULD HAVE IT DONE IN A MATTER OF HOURS?" Andre was screaming himself hoarse, his face showing a mask of anger. The leader swallowed, but held his ground.

"We followed your orders-"

"APPARENTLY, not well enough. Do you know how long I've waited for this?"

"Years, my lord-"

"YEARS. I'VE WAITED YEARS. MY FATHER HAVE WAITED. _YEARS_. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG IT CAN BE BEFORE WE GET ANOTHER CHANCE?"

Turning around, he grabbed the nearest table and sent it crashing to the side, things flying everywhere. Keeping his back to the men behind him, he closed his eyes and tried to contain his rage.

"I'm surrounded by idiots. She was right before your fingers and you let her slip away."

"My lord, the man who was with her led her into hiding. He must be protecting her-"

"Did I not also say you could kill him? WHY is his still breathing?"

The leader looked back at his men, and then hung his head.

"One of us... that is to say, of of my men, Denis... he did not respond to our silent signal, and he went to attempt to kill him."

"Which he obviously failed to do," Andre hissed, still standing with his back to them.

"But my men are loyal, my lord. Even in death, they would never betray you – she is still clueless to who's after her, I'm sure of it."

"She'd better be," Andre roared, turning back to face them. "These musketeers... they're in the way. The man she was with in particular. As long as he lives, we wont be able to come near her."

He looked at the leader.

"Get rid of him. Get rid of them all if you have to. But you follow the usual orders – she will not be harmed, and NOTHING will be traced back to my family. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord," every man before Andre gave a small bow.

"And trust me," Andre sneered, "I will not be so forgiving if you fail me again."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Is it bad that despite how much I hate Andre, I really like writing him?**

 **Next up; questions are being asked, and Iris meets Constance again.**


	7. Chapter 7

_On a ladder from there to here I'll climb_ _  
_ _All this clatter between my ears I find_ _  
_ _Does it matter if I can't clear my mind_ _  
_ _There's a right and a wrong time_

The Ladder – Andrew Belle

* * *

They had spent the better part of an hour to comb through the streets for any signs of the men who had pursued Athos and Iris, before admitting defeat and made their way back towards the garrison. They made a quick stop at the morgue to inform the undertaker of the body they had left behind, and they were assured that he would be brought there at the earliest convenience.

The sun had risen, and the garrison was already busy by the time they returned. Treville looked up when they entered, and Iris could immediately see that the man had been pacing back and forth for a while now. He looked them over, and a bit of the tension he carried in his shoulders eased away.

"It would seem you've had quite the morning," he noted as the five of them stood before the desk. Treville stood on the other side, looking them over carefully. Each of them seemed exhausted.

"There's nothing to report from the night itself," Athos began explaining. "When we were on our way back we discovered we were followed, and sought cover to assess the situation."

Treville frowned, and waited for Athos to continue. On their way back to the garrison, he and Iris had already informed the others of what had occurred before their arrival.

"We went on to seek them out, and eventually split up to search more of the area. I was attacked by one of them, and managed to shoot him before he got too close – D'Artagnan and Porthos found me at that point. A moment later Aramis and Iris appeared."

Their captain's frown deepened and he began scratching his chin.

"This man – is he dead?" he asked, and Athos nodded his head.

"I don't believe he, or the ones who were with him, are the men we are looking for," Iris interrupted. Treville turned to look at her. "When I asked him about it, his eyes showed no recognition to the matter. He was however very reluctant to give any sign to why we had been followed."

"So you're telling me," Treville began, sitting down in his chair, "that not only have we nothing new in our case, but now we also need to be on the lookout for someone carrying a personal vendetta against one of you?"

"Doesn't have to be personal," Aramis mused, crossing his arms over his chest. "There's plenty of people out there with a hatred to us."

"But if they came to kill musketeers, why retreat when we appeared?" D'Artagnan questioned with raised eyebrows. Porthos grinned, but it didn't seem to reach his eyes.

"Perhaps they didn't think they could take us all on at once."

A silence settled on the office. Treville glanced at Iris again.

"Could there be anyone who would hold a grudge against either of you? Something that could potentially make someone want to have you killed?"

Iris looked at Athos out of the corner of her eye. His face showed no emotions.

"No one comes to mind," she assured him, carefully keeping her own face as expressionless as possible. Treville slightly narrowed his eyes, and turned his attention to Athos who shook his head. After another moments silence, he sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"Well, I suppose all we can do about this is to keep an eye out for each other," he said, and added, "You all deserve a bit of rest. We'll continue the investigation later."

With that they were dismissed, and they quickly left the office. Out in the courtyard, Porthos and Aramis went straight to their rooms, and D'Artagnan and Athos moved towards the gates.

"Athos, wait."

He turned around to see Iris walk towards him.

"In all the excitement I almost forgot to return these," she said, and held out his gloves.

"You should keep them," he said, taking a step towards her. "I believe you need them more than I do."

Giving him a thankful smile, she put the gloves in her coat pocket and sighed.

"I didn't expect such an event-less night to turn into a high-risk game of hide and seek."

"Neither did I."

"For a moment, after hearing the shot being fired... Well, I thought that perhaps..." she admitted, her words trailing off. There was a faint tug at the corners of his lips.

Nexttime, for your peace of mind, we wont split up."

"Oh, next time?" her voice had turned playful and her brows were raised.

"Should there be a next time, of course," he quickly corrected himself.

"Well then," she moved a bit closer to him. "A word of advice; _next time_ you get the urge to drag me down a dark alley... warn me first."

As he watched her disappear through the opening that led to the rooms, Athos found himself wondering whether she had been serious or not.

* * *

He found D'Artagnan lingering just outside the gates, and the two set off down the street. The Bonacieux residence lay just a few streets away from Athos' lodgings, so they would every now and then come across the other on their way to and from the garrison.

Though they walked in silence, Athos could sense the younger man watch him. D'Artagnan seemed to be on the verge of asking him something, but every time he opened his mouth he quickly closed it again. After a few minutes of this, Athos finally caved.

"Speak your mind, D'Artagnan, before you burst," he muttered, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

"I was just wondering... could there be a chance the men who came after you are working for your wife?"

Athos winced slightly, and closed his eyes for a second. He had all but forgotten how he, after being saved from the flames of the château he had grown up in, had confessed his secrets to D'Artagnan. Over the weeks that had passed since that night, neither of them had spoken of it again, and Athos was grateful for it. Despite D'Artagnan knowing everything, it didn't make it any easier to talk about.

"I've considered it myself, and somehow I doubt that she would have me killed in such a quiet way."

"But perhaps it would be best to inform the others of-"

"No."

Athos stopped and looked at D'Artagnan with a grave expression. D'Artagnan had stopped as well, and was now looking at him with a look of worry.

"If I believed her to be a threat to all of us, I would inform the others. As I don't, there is no reason to say any more of the matter."

D'Artagnan fidgeted where he stood.

"Athos, I'm sure Porthos and Aramis would understand..." His words trailed off, as Athos eyes darkened. A moment later it was gone.

"You gave me your word, D'Artagnan. Leave it be."

* * *

D'Artagnan let his eyes follow Athos as he made his way across the street to his lodgings. He suspected that the musketeer would wait till he had left before making his way to a quiet tavern where he could drink away any thoughts of his vengeful wife. Letting out a groan at the stubbornness of his friend, he moved towards the way that led to his current lodgings.

After saving Athos from almost being executed, Aramis and Porthos had explained that Athos had women trouble and therefore spent every night drinking himself to oblivion. He would never have imagined the extent of the troubles Athos carried with him.

 _Had I not dragged him from the flames myself, I might never have known_ , D'Artagnan thought and shook his head to himself. There was no blaming Athos for wanting to keep his past a secret, but he should at least know that his friends wouldn't judge him for what he had done.

When he entered the Bonacieux residence, he found all his thoughts of Athos' troubles evaporate. Standing by the dining table, Constance looked up from the laundry she was folding when he entered. Glancing at the window, she put aside the freshly cleaned shirt, and picked up the next item from the basket that stood on the floor.

"You've had a long night," she commented, as he leaned against the wall near the fireplace.

"I spent the entire night keeping close watch over a house in an abandoned part of town," he explained, and yawned as though to prove his statement. She huffed, and looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is that what musketeers do these days, house-sitting? Have you had enough of worming your way into trouble?"

"We're investigating a few strange murders," he rolled his eyes, and moved towards his room. "I've just come back for an hours rest... perhaps two," he added with another yawn.

Constance shook her head as he left, and glanced at the rest of the laundry that still needed to be folded and put away. After that she had a few errands to run.

 _What I wouldn't do for a few hours rest..._

* * *

 _As Elaine was sick, it had become Iris' chore to change the sheets in the comtes room. Normally, she would stay as far away from that particular room as possible, but she had never been one to neglect her duties and therefore walked in and went about her work as quickly as she could._

 _She stiffened slightly as the voices of the comte, Garrett Demont and his son Andre carried through the adjoining room to where she stood. Feeling her heart beast faster, she almost made a tear in the pillowcase she was removing._

 _"_ _... you seem awfully sure," she heard Andre say, just loud enough for her to hear. For a moment she was torn between leaving so she wouldn't be blamed for eavesdropping, and finishing what she had begun. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she continued her work. Despite how much she tried not to, she could easily hear the conversation between the men._

 _"_ _Why would I not be, my son?" Garrett answered, sounding more joyous than was usual for him. "Everything is coming into place, is it not?"_

 _"_ _But surely you cant mean it – it's unconventional, irregular... it's a mockery to our name!"_

 _Iris expected an angry outburst, and was surprised when it didn't come. The comte usually never allowed his son to speak to him this way._

 _"_ _Irregular, perhaps... but it has been a long time coming, and I have made my decision."_

 _"_ _And how can you expect her to go along with something like that?"_

 _"_ _You make it sound as though she has a choice to make – what could be more desirable for a young woman than to rise in status, and gain security?"_

 _"_ _She's a maid! She cooks and cleans – she is not suited to bear the title of comtesse!"_

 _Iris, who had finished and was about to leave the bedroom, froze in place and felt her jaw drop._

 _"_ _She will learn!" Garrett answered, now with an edge of irritability. Almost as though the two of them had had the discussion several times before. "Her 18_ _th_ _birthday nears, she is almost a fully grown woman. This has been her home all of her life, and with the promise of marriage it will be her home for the rest of her life."_

 _"_ _But father-"_

 _"_ _You_ will _accept it, Andre. She will be my wife, of her own free will, before you know it."_

 _Feeling tears sting her eyes, she left the room as quietly as possible. Not noticing what happened around her, she all of a sudden found herself before the door that led to her prison-like room, and the moment she had slipped through and closed it behind her, the emotions inside her broke free._

 _Sliding down the wall, she clamped a hand over her mouth to cover the broken sounds that came from her with every sob._

 _She should have known. Of course it all made sense now. Over the past couple of years she had had the feeling that he was keeping her around as though he owned her. But of course,_ of course _, that would never be enough._ "You make it sound as though she has a choice to make _", his words echoed in her head, causing her to sob even harder. Simply being near him was hard enough – but marriage. Marriage was forever. She had always believed she would leave the mansion at some point, when she was ready. She would tell the comte that she would be going just like her mother had done many years ago. Now she understood that he would never allow such a thing. Even if he had to hunt her down, Garrett Demont had decided to make her his wife. And he was a man who stood by his decisions._

* * *

Iris woke with a start and felt herself slightly shivering. It had been a long time since she had thought of the comte, and even longer since he had stopped haunting her dreams.

Throwing the covers aside, she looked through the window. It couldn't be more than an hour since she returned to her room for a bit of rest. Exhaling deeply she stood up and reached for the weapons that lay on her table. There was no chance that she would fall asleep again in any near future, so she might as well take a walk to clear her mind.

As she walked through busy streets, crowded with people going about their business, she allowed herself to consider what she had thought as she stood in the dark alley with Athos.

During the first couple of months since she fled from the Demont mansion, she had been looking over her shoulder every other moment to be sure that she was safe. With the exception of a few times when her paranoia had made her believe she had seen Andre watching her from afar, there had never been any sign of her being followed. By the time she was commissioned, she had allowed herself to relax, and believe that she was forgotten by the Demont's.

Her reluctance to speak of it her past was more than just it being uncomfortable for her. If she admitted to anyone how she had lived and what she had escaped, surely she would sooner or later have to face the comte again. Over the years Iris had trained to be tough, but the thought of being near him was enough to make her weary and afraid. Something none of the musketeers, or anyone else for that matter, should see.

Still wondering if there could be any chance that her past had caught up with her, she looked up to see where her feet had taken her. Standing at the edge of a market place, she let her eyes wander. A flash of red hair caught her attention, and she soon tucked her fears away in her head, and moved forwards.

"Do you need a hand?" she asked as she neared a woman carrying several rolls of cloth. The woman peered over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at Iris for a moment before remembering why she looked familiar.

"You're D'Artagnan's friend," she muttered, and moved the rolls of cloth around to better hold them.

"As are you," Iris commented, giving her a friendly smile. Glancing down at the cloth the woman carried, she spoke again. "Really, I'd be happy to help."

"Thank you, my home isn't that far from here but I appreciate the help all the same" the woman said, after being relieved of some of the weight. Producing a friendly smile of her own, she turned to the woman. "I feel like I should introduce myself again; I'm Constance Bonacieux."

"Iris Chevalier."

"Of the musketeers, if I remember correctly," Constance continued, gesturing to the pauldron on Iris' shoulder.

She had begun walking in a slow tempo, with Iris following.

"The one and only."

"How does that work, exactly? Being a female musketeer?"

When women asked that question, Iris usually felt irritation at the judgement that seemed to radiate of them. Constance, however, seemed genuinely curious.

"The same as for every man, I suppose. I just happen to turn a few heads when I'm out and about."

"I can imagine. D'Artagnan told me just the other day of how surprised he and the others were when you showed up."

The two women chatted back and forth on their way to Constance's home, mostly discussing how Iris could possibly stand to live with the musketeers.

"When you learn to stop listening to certain conversations," Iris explained, "it's easy to be comfortable there."

Iris asked about how Constance had come to know D'Artagnan and questions of her husband.

"He travels a lot," she explained, not looking particularly bothered by the fact.

When they reached the house, Iris set aside the rolls of cloth she had carried.

"It's been a long while since I've been able to have a conversation with a woman that didn't look at me like I'm a disgrace to women in general," Iris admitted. Constance laughed, and shook her head.

"I myself have a hard time to remember the last time I've spoken to a woman who can think for herself. And it's good to know there's someone who can keep an eye on those four men – god knows I cant carry that responsibility on my own."

Smiling to herself, Iris had a feeling she and Constance would get along quite well.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **As always, I thank you all for reading!**

 **In the next chapter, Iris adjusts to life in the garrison, gets to know her new friends better and has a run-in with a drunken Athos...**


	8. Chapter 8

_You took me by the hand_ _  
_ _I thought that I was leading you_ _  
_ _But it was you made me your man_ _  
_ _Machine_ _  
_ _I dream_ _  
_ _Where you are_ _  
_ _Iris standing in the hall_ _  
_ _She tells me I can do it all_ _  
_ _Iris wakes to my nightmares_ _  
_ _Don't fear the world it isn't there_

Iris (Hold Me Close) – U2

* * *

For the musketeers at the garrison, the excitement of a woman in their midst quickly faded away. As she gradually fell into the routine of chores and guarding shifts, Iris slowly became a part of the close-knit group of men who had immediately accepted her.

She rarely saw one without the other, and often found herself marvelling at the trust they had in each other. How they could communicate without a word being spoken and understand when it was and wasn't needed to look out for each other was beyond her. Back in the day, she, Aramis and Marsac had had a similar arrangement. Even D'Artagnan, who had only been with them a short time, was familiar with their way of working.

When they weren't working, the men usually sought out the pleasures of life.

Porthos was an exceptional player of cards - which might only be because of his tendency to cheat. As Porthos had grown up in the court of miracles, this skill had been his only source of income. Now, it was simply a habit he couldn't shake. She learned that behind the at-first-glance rough facade, Porthos had a heart of gold. He was fiercely protective of his brothers saw honour above anything.

It came as no surprise to her whenever she saw Aramis in the company of a woman. As charming as ever, he drew attention to himself wherever they went, causing her to shake her head at him in an up-giving manner. Despite his usual joyous way of being, Iris could still see a slight shadow of the man who had returned from Savoy. It warmed her heart to see the shadow disappear whenever he was with the others, and she knew they provided the same source of strength as she drew from the bracelet that had once been her mothers.

Athos was an entirely different matter. In the mornings, she would hear of the events of their night out - something she continually chose not to be a part of as it had no interest to her - and she took notice of their implied comments of Athos' drinking habits. Not that it ever showed on him. He always seemed to have an air of indifference around him, but it was obvious that he cared deeply for his companions.

Though he was the newest addition, D'Artagnan was already a vital part of their group. It didn't take long for Iris to notice the potential they all saw in him. Observing his training one day, she saw how he fought with the same passion she had once discovered in herself. He did however show signs of impatience and he had a quick temper, but he was quick on his feet and very resourceful.

* * *

Two weeks after her arrival, their investigation hit a wall. There had been no new killings, but at the same time they had not yet succeeded in getting any new information. The five of them would spend hours going over what they knew, trying to piece loose ends together, before parting in frustration with plans of continuing the coming day.

"It's only a matter of time before the cardinal gets news of this," Porthos grumbled as he, Aramis, Athos and D'Artagnan sat in their usual spot in the courtyard.

"I'm sure he would put a nice spin to our situation," Aramis muttered, massaging his neck. It was no secret that the cardinal held a great hatred to the musketeers.

"Perhaps we're looking in all the wrong places," Athos mused quietly. Aramis turned to him with a frown.

"How so?"

"Consider the possibility that this has nothing to do with the informants," Athos continued, letting his eyes wander around the courtyard. "All of this could just be a distraction from the bigger picture."

He let out a sigh and began rising from the bench.

"Let us explore that possibility in the morning. Right now I think we all..."

His words trailed off as Iris came into the courtyard. The others looked up at his sudden silence.

"So _that's_ why you disappeared," Aramis gestured to her clothes as she came over to the table. She had left them some ten minutes ago when their discussions had reached an end, and now stood before them in the same dress she had worn the day she arrived.

"Is there a problem?" she smiled, but there was a distracted look in her eyes. She kept glancing at the gate and fiddled with the cloak she held on tightly to.

"It's just unusual to see you look so-" Porthos commented.

"Like a woman?" she interrupted. "How lucky, that is just the look I was going for."

"Are you going somewhere?" Aramis now also rose from his seat and looked at her with mock-seriousness on his face.

"I am, and no. It does not concern you," she said turning to him. Glancing back at the gates, she sighed and threw the cloak around her shoulders.

"Now if you'll excuse me," she continued, giving them all a slight smile, "I have somewhere to be."

When she disappeared into the beginning night, Aramis sank back on to the bench and reached for the pitcher of wine that stood at the table.

"She must be going to see Constance," he muttered and brought his glass to his lips. D'Artagnan began shaking his head.

"Constance is visiting her cousin tonight," he explained and reached for the pitcher as well. They would soon need to get a refill. Porthos snickered and looked at them knowingly.

"I believe she has another agenda this evening."

Aramis frowned for just a second before huffing.

"Absolutely not. I know Iris – she's not interested in something like that."

"Are you sure that is not the brotherly-protection speaking?" D'Artagnan inquired, folding his hands in front of him. "After all, it _has_ been five years since you last saw her. I believe women need company just as much as-"

"I swear, if you finish that sentence, so help me" Aramis warned, giving him a stern look.

"Five livre says D'Artagnan is right," Porthos challenged holding out his hand. Aramis looked at him for a moment and then shook it.

"You're on. She is going nowhere near anyone's bed but her own tonight."

"Count me in on that bet," D'Artagnan said raising his glass.

"She might just kill us if she knew about this," Aramis said, taking a swig from his own. "At least I have enough sense to believe the best."

"You, believe the best?" Porthos exclaimed. "Had this been about any other woman, you would agree with us."

"I wont confirm or deny that," Aramis admitted. "When I look at Iris I will always see a young woman at the age of seventeen. And trust me when I say that I've been wrong about something like this before." His eyes darkened at the memory of the day he had confronted her about his suspicions of hers and Marsac's strange disappearances.

"What do you say Athos?" Porthos asked, looking up. Athos had watched her leave and was now looking thoughtful. At the sound of his name, he took a deep breath and turned to his three friends.

"I believe it's none of our concern."

Giving them a nod of his head he made his own way towards the gates and disappeared into the night.

* * *

Iris moved through the dimly lit tavern, doing her best to attract as little attention as possible. A part of her wished that she had taken a back-way out of the garrison in order to avoid meeting her friends. _They'll have questions_ , she thought to herself, and sighed. At least she had till morning to come up with some sort of excuse, to avoid any misunderstandings. _But why bother... let them think what they will_ , a little voice inside her said.

Glancing around her, she quickly slipped through a door to her right and immediately felt the drop in temperature. Where the tavern promised warmth and the sounds of people, the narrow hall she stood in now promised nothing of the sort. Drawing her cloak closer around her, she blindly felt her way to the staircase, and made her way upstairs. All sounds from the tavern beneath her were gone, and now she stood in almost complete silence.

Making her way down the row of doors, she squinted through the sparse light from the lanterns that hung from the ceiling and finally found the door she had been looking for.

Taking a deep breath, she felt her hand begin to shake. She had spent years running from everything that so much as reminded her of her past, and now here she was. Willingly seeking it out.

 _But if you don't do it, you'll never know_ , the voice reasoned _._ _You're a musketeer, dammit. Act like it!_

Taking a deep breath she lifted her hand and gently knocked on the door. Sounds could be heard from the inside. Footsteps approaching. She blinked in the sudden light as the door opened. Standing before her was a man with short sand-coloured hair – looking just like he had done so many years previously.

* * *

 _"_ _Iris!"_

 _Iris looked up from the book she had been leafing through, as Theo appeared before her. His long hair fell into his eyes, that shone with excitement._

 _"_ _You've finished your chores for the day, haven't you?" he asked._

 _"_ _For the time being, yes," she said hesitantly. Smiling, he took the book from her and took a firm hold of her hand._

 _"_ _Come along then!"_

 _"_ _Where are we going?" she couldn't help but smile at his urgency. Stopping for a moment, he turned to face her._

 _"_ _Since you've been removed from the kitchen I've barely had a chance to see you – and I figured, with everyone gone, we should do something."_

 _"_ _Such as?" she inquired, as his excitement began to rub off on her._

 _"_ _You remember how you wanted to learn how to shoot not so long ago?"_

 _Her eyes widened. Then her face fell as she looked around as though they were being watched._

 _"_ _But Theo... if they find out. The comte will be_ furious _."_

 _"_ _Then we wont let anyone know. Come on, Iris," he added when he saw the look of worry on her face. "If this is the only chance we get to live a little, shouldn't we take it?"_

 _She bit down on her lip and looked through the window. The comte and his son would be away for at least another hour. And she could be very sure that none of the other servants of the mansion would rat them out. Giving him a small smile, she gave his hand a friendly squeeze._

 _"_ _Why not. Let's live a little."_

 _The ran through the halls, much like they had done when they were children, and took the back door that led to the forest. Iris let Theo lead her to the edge of the trees when she felt the rush of doing something she wasn't supposed to. Surely, the comte would be furious if he found out. Theo would surely be punished. But he was right – for once in her life she had a small chance to live a little._

* * *

"Theo?" she said in a small voice. He frowned at her for a moment, and then his jaw went slack.

"Iris?"

A look of shock and happiness appeared on his face as he looked at her.

"I cant believe it, I haven't seen you in-"

"Can I come in?" she interrupted, glancing down the hall. "I'd prefer to talk to you in private."

"Yes, yes of course!" He quickly stepped aside and held the door open for her.

The room was small, consisting of a small bed tucked into one corner and a table with a single chair in the other. A warm glow came from the fireplace, that lit up the room.

"I have to admit, I have so many questions," he said as he walked towards her, staring at her in wonder. "I don't even know where to begin."

"How about a hug for an old friend?" she suggested, giving him a smile. A second later his arms were around her.

"I cant begin to explain how worried I was..." he mumbled. Iris returned the embrace.

"I wanted to say goodbye, I really did," she said apologetically.

"I know."

Holding on to her a second longer, Theo leaned away and looked around the room.

"You should sit down – I'm sure I have a bottle of wine somewhere..."

"Don't trouble yourself on my account," she assured him as she sank down on the edge of the bed. "After all I do come unannounced."

"Oh I need a drink for my own sake," he said and retrieved a dusty bottle from a chest that stood at the end of the bed. Producing two glasses, he poured one for each other them. In one quick motion he emptied his own and poured another one.

"Somehow I have a feeling you didn't come by for a friendly visit," he noted as he dragged the chair towards the bed, and sat down in front of her. Iris looked into the contents of her glass, and exhaled deeply.

"Theo, I think I'm in trouble and I'm not sure who else to turn to."

* * *

She told him everything. From overhearing Garrett speak of marriage, to having Elaine help her escape. From meeting Treville to living at the garrison. Aramis, Marsac, training and the attack at the palace. Of her commissioning to the attack at Savoy. Of her years with Navarre to returning to Paris. Of the night she and Athos had been followed, and her suspicions. And lastly, how she had tracked him down to standing in front of his door.

Theo had watched her in silence through it all, letting her finish her tale before deciding to speak.

"So all this time, you've never once told anyone about your previous life? Not a word?"

Iris shook her head. Theo leaned back in his chair and emptied his glass, that had been refilled a few times through her story. She had yet to touch her own.

"But what of these musketeers – your friends. Don't you trust them?"

Her head snapped up.

"Of course I do. Theo, I trust them more than I trust anyone. At least, I'm learning to."

"So why are you here? Why come to me?" he asked, frowning. Iris ran a hand through her hair.

"If I cant allow myself to think of it, how could I ever tell them? I come to you because you know... you know what it was like. You understand."

He leaned forward and took her hand in his.

"Iris, I wont pretend that I know anything about these men, but from what you've told me they sound like decent people. I'm sure that they'll understand as well. That being said," he gave her hand a squeeze and smiled widely. "I'm so glad you found me. It's been killing me all these years to now know whether or not you were okay. Elaine never spoke of what happened that night, but we all knew she was involved..."

"Were they brutal? When they discovered that she helped me?"

He flinched slightly at the memory.

"All things considered, Andre could have done a lot more damage than he did. All that's left is a scar down the side of her cheek."

Iris groaned and stood up to begin pacing in the small room. He watched her for a moment before speaking again.

"You said you were in trouble. What can I possibly do that the musketeers cant?"

"I told you how I was followed a few weeks ago. I just cant shake this feeling that Demont is still after me... I've wanted desperately to believe that he thought me dead."

She stopped mid step and looked at him.

"What happened after I left?"

"Well," Theo began, scratching his forehead. "Chaos. Demont just about tore the house apart. He refused to believe that you could have left on your own account, but at the same time he didn't want to involve the authorities in finding you. Some time later, Andre left. We never knew why. He would appear and disappear over the next months. After you left I grew tired of the place myself. Of course he didn't have a care in the world for when I disappeared."

He looked up at her with an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything of use for you. It's possible Demont is after you, but it's almost been six years... the man has to give up at some point, doesn't he?"

"One can only hope... Theo I hate to ask this of you. Mostly because I barge into your life like this – you don't owe me anything, I have no right-"

"Whatever you need," he said standing up. "I've known you my entire life Iris. If there is anything I can do, you name it."

"I need to know if Demont is still a threat to me – Both Garrett and Andre," she said hesitantly. He slowly nodded.

"And you want me to find out."

"Of course I understand if you don't want to-"

"Iris. I'll do it. Whatever you need."

* * *

Iris left Theo that night, feeling unsure of whether she had done the right thing. A part of her was hugely relieved to have spoken freely – something she hadn't allowed herself to do in years. But another part felt raw. She had barricaded all of it inside herself, and now she just felt the pain of the memories wash over her.

Theo had promised to leave in the morning. Since leaving the mansion, he had been travelling around France, finding work where ever he could. He had promised to send word to her at soon as he could, making sure to be discreet about it.

"But really Iris. Don't shut the people in your life out. Tell them," he had said as they parted.

Iris slipped through the door that led back into the tavern. Though she had only been gone for two hours, most of the people who had been there before were now gone. People were still sitting in the corners and hiding in the shadows cast by the flickering candlelights. The crowd had most likely moved on to another tavern. She herself looked forward to go back to her own room at the garrison and hopefully get some nightmare-free rest.

"Iris?"

She tensed as her name was spoken, and slowly turned to look for the speaker. Sitting half shrouded in the shadows, Athos was looking at her with narrowed eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, as she walked closer. His voice sounded slightly slurred. Her eyes fell on the three empty bottles on the table, and a fourth that was just about there as well.

"I could ask you the same," she said with a frown.

"The wine happens to be excellent here," he muttered, swirling the contents in the glass in front of him. For a moment he almost seemed to forget she was standing there, simply staring into his glass. His eyes seemed unfocused, and he was barely drinking. For the first time she understood what it was that Aramis and Porthos implied when they spoke of his drinking.

"Are you alright, Athos?" she asked quietly, worry taking over in her mind. As he didn't react, she began wondering if she was supposed to do something or simply leave him be. If this was something that happened to him often, perhaps he would be better off going through whatever it was he went through on his own.

"I'm guessing you're here to be alone, so perhaps I should leave," she said and began to move away. With more speed that she had thought him capable of in the state he was in, he had reached out to take a hold of her wrist. He eyes were now on her, still trying to focus.

"Tell me," he pleaded, pulling her closer. "What you said that night, about being another person. How do you forgot who you were?"

Sinking in to chair next to him, he released his grip on her wrist.

"I'm hardly the one to be asked about something like this..." she explained, and gave a sigh. A headache was slowly forming. "I don't believe it's possible to forget, no matter how hard we try."

She glanced at the bottles on the table and then back at him.

"Is that why you're here?" she asked slowly. His eyes closed and a pained expression came over his face. "To forget?"

"I could never forget what I have done," he whispered. For a moment Iris was at a loss of what to do. One of the many reasons she didn't drink was because she liked to have a clear mind – and it was obvious to her now that Athos was far from a clear mind.

"I cannot imagine you doing something so bad to have it haunt you like this."

His eyes flew open and he looked at her darkly.

"You don't know," he said, his voice breaking.

"You're right, I don't," she said soothingly, and put a hand on top of his. At the touch he flinched, but didn't move away. "What I do know is that you're a good, honourable and brave man. We may barely know each other, but I see how the musketeers look up to you to guide them. There is no way they would do so if you didn't deserve it."

He was staring at her hand that still lay on his, watching as her thumb gently began stroking his hand.

"How about I get you home?" she offered, watching him carefully. "I think you need to sleep this off."

"I don't deserve your kindness," he blurted out and reached his free hand towards his glass.

" _Everyone_ deserves some kindness," a smile appeared on her face. "Some more than others. You just have to let it in."

Moving the glass just out of his reach, she gave his hand a gently squeeze.

"Come," she said, using the same authoritative voice she had used on the undertaker many days ago. Standing up, she let go of his hand. After a moment, he slowly followed her, much to her surprise. She had at least expected him to resist going anywhere.

His lodgings weren't far from the tavern, and she followed him inside, determined to see him safely in bed before going anywhere.

His room was not much bigger than that of Theo, and held just about the same amount of furniture. On the wall hung a sword, and scattered here and there lay a few scrolls of paper. As he sat down heavily on his bed, Iris began removing his leather doublet.

"I cant imagine what you must think of me right now," he murmured as he shrugged the doublet off. Iris placed it carefully over the back of a chair and turned to him. The only source of light in the room was a candle that had hastily been lit when they entered.

"I'm not in a position to judge," she said with a smile, and continued jokily, "you forget – I'm a broken soul as well."

What almost sounded like a chuckle escaped from his lips as he lay back on the thin mattress. As Iris pulled the covers over him she realised that he had made her all but forget her own worries. Believing him to already be asleep, she blew out the light and had just placed a hand on the door when he spoke again.

"Is he one?"

"Who?" she asked, frowning.

"The man you went to see tonight. Is he one of the rare exceptions?"

Iris narrowed her eyes as she racked her brain to understand what he was referring to. Then she remembered how they, on the night they had been watching over the house of the informants, had discussed whether or not she had someone special in her life.

"No," she said, a warm feeling spreading through her. "No, I believe you're still the only rare exception I've met."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **And so dear readers, the chapter I didn't know how to begin and had no idea how to stop writing.**

 **Lots and lots going on in this one. Next up; another death occurs, and the cardinal becomes involved.**

 **I wan to thank everyone who has read and reviewed - both newcomers and those who have been with this from the start. I hope you'll bear with me from here on - my exam project begins in a few days and I doubt I will have much else on my mind - but who knows. I didn't plan a chapter this long - I might even surprise myself!**

 **(and a nod of thanks to riversidewren who made me fall in love with the idea that the boys make bets. about everything)**


	9. Chapter 9

_Make your move now and try to win the_ _game_ _  
_ _But in the end it always stays the same_ _  
_ _Don't shy away behind those lost in lines_ _  
_ _I read between them almost every-time_

Wor – Django Django

* * *

Athos opened his eyes and immediately shut them again at the sudden light. As he brought a hand up to rub away the sleep that lingered in the corners of his eyes, a pounding began from somewhere deep in his head.

Taking a deep breath, he raised himself to a sitting position. The movement caused the covers to fall to the floor, and for a second he narrowed his eyes. Usually he would just collapse on top of them, never bothering to do anything after a night of drinking. Shaking his head to himself he threw them back on the bed and looked around his room.

Most of the night was a blur to him. After Iris had left the garrison the previous night, he felt irritable without fully understanding why. Going to one of the more quiet taverns he knew, he had begun drinking and didn't remember much else after that. At some point he must have gotten up and headed home.

Going to the bucket of cool water he kept by the window, he thought briefly of the dream he had had. Something about gentle hands and a soothing voice that had sounded strangely like Iris...

* * *

"I cannot believe you made a bet of whether or not I was headed out to meet a man," Iris said shaking her head at the three men at the table. Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan had been waiting for her at the table that morning, immediately asking questions about her night. Iris had rolled her eyes and taken a sip from the mug of tea she held – a cup of tea in the morning was a habit she had from her time with Navarre who enjoyed enjoyed it himself.

"Well, to be fair, it was unusual behaviour from your side," D'Artagnan noted as he spread a layer of butter on a roll of bread. At this moment, Athos appeared through the gates and sat down next to Porthos by the table. Nodding their heads as a way of saying good morning, they continued their conversation. It wasn't unusual for him to quietly join them like this in the morning, as they all knew could still be somewhat hungover.

"That does not justify the bet," Iris said raising an eyebrow. There was a look of amusement on her face as she looked between the four of them. Athos showed no recognition towards what had happened the previous night – for a moment she wondered if he was embarrassed by being found in the state he was in. "Is this your way of telling me you think I'm lonely?"

"Of course not!" Porthos exclaimed, shifting in his seat. "We simply saw an opportunity to take money from Aramis, so we took it."

"And it would seem that was a bad decision," Aramis muttered, looking all too pleased with himself. "I see the bet as a way for me to prove how well I know our dear Iris – and it would seem that just earned me ten livre."

Iris put her elbow on the table and leaned her head in the palm of her hand. Making a bigger scene of it than was necessary, Porthos and D'Artagnan found five livre each and handed them over to Aramis who gave them a smug smile.

"What exactly was the nature of this bet?" she asked.

"I believe it was something along the lines _she is going nowhere near anyone's bed but her own_ ," Athos quietly explained as he poured himself a glass of water. Iris huffed.

"Then I believe Aramis better return what he's just been given."

The smile on Aramis face evaporated and he turned to her with big eyes.

"But you said you were just meeting a friend -" he stammered, and Iris quickly put up a hand to stop him speaking.

"Would you relax? I _was_ meeting a friend, but it's not his bed I'm referring to – it's Athos'."

Athos, who at that moment was in the middle of draining his glass, spluttered in surprise as three pairs of eyes fell on him. After a pat on the back by Porthos, he stopped coughing to clear his lungs long enough to speak.

"What did you say?"

Iris raised her eyebrows for what felt like the hundredth time that morning and looked at him.

"Oh Athos, I know you were very inebriated last night, but do you mean to say you remember nothing?" she asked, barely containing the teasing edge in her voice. Athos blinked.

"I'm not sure..." he began with a frown.

"How do you think you got home last night?" she continued with a knowing smile, and lifted her mug of tea to her lips. Porthos turned from Athos to Aramis with a victorious gleam in his eyes.

" _Going nowhere near anyone's bed but her own_ ," he slowly repeated, holding out his hand palm up towards Aramis.

"That _hardly_ counts," Aramis protested, looking from Porthos to D'Artagnan who now also looked smug.

"I believe the bet speaks for itself," D'Artagnan admitted, also holding out a hand. Narrowing his eyes at them, he finally gave up and paid what he owed.

"Don't look so sullen, Aramis," Iris said, a wide grin spreading on her face. "It doesn't suit you."

* * *

Treville was deep in his own thoughts when he walked from his office to the landing outside. At the sound of laughter beneath him, he stopped for a moment to look at the group of people at the table.

Iris and Porthos were laughing the loudest, seemingly at Aramis who was holding up his hands in defeat. D'Artagnan had a hand on Aramis shoulder and seemed to be laughing to himself. Even Athos, who was shaking his head in an up-giving manner, showed the hint of a smile.

As he moved towards the stairs that led down to the courtyard, he thought of how a few months ago there had only been The Three Inseparables as they were called by the other musketeers. Now, with D'Artagnan in training and the return of Iris, their little group was rapidly expanding.

 _If this goes on, I might have to split them up_.

Gesturing to one of the stable boys to prepare his horse, he walked over to the table where the laughter subsided.

"Morning captain," they muttered cheerfully, gaining a nod in return.

"Do you have anything new for me?" he inquired, and watched the cheer on their faces turn to variations of annoyance and defeat.

"I think we'll start over today," Athos spoke up, "go at it from a different angle."

"Sounds like a good idea. Right now I welcome anything that can move us forward," Treville said with a sigh, and accepted the reins of his horse from the stable boy who had appeared.

* * *

"In the meantime, I've been summoned to the palace. You let me know if you find anything useful."

"... and so I believe we will hear from him sooner than later," the king said rolling his eyes. "Though I hope it will be later rather than sooner."

Treville cleared his throat and let his eyes go around the room. The king had been expressing his displeasure of an upcoming signing of a peace treaty with Savoy – not that he found the signing a problem, but it was no secret that Louis wasn't on good terms with his brother-in-law, the duke of Savoy.

"I'm sure we will, your majesty," the cardinal answered, only just hiding the impatience in his voice. They had gone over the need for a peace treaty many times before.

Louis turned his head towards the windows, and opened his eyes wide with joy.

"I believe that is all there is to say about that," he said and rose from his throne. "Now, the weather is far too good to be cooped up in this room – I believe I will go shooting," with that he held out a hand to Anne, who gave him a slight smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She had never liked the shooting, always tensing when a shot was fired. Still, as was her duty as queen, she stood up and accepted his hand.

Treville bowed as the regents left the room with their servants, and knew he was free to return to his garrison. Yet, as he was just about to step out of the room, a voice called out to him.

"I understand you're in the middle of an important investigation, captain."

Cursing under his breath, Treville turned to the cardinal who was the only other person in the room. There was a look of innocence on the cardinals face that only made Treville more irritated.

"Is that what your spies tell you?" he countered, walking closer. The hint of a smile appeared on the cardinals face – he had gotten the reaction he wanted.

"Oh come now, Treville. Don't we all have our spies? Though I understand you're loosing yours, one by one," the cardinal added with a slight inclination of his head.

"It would be a shame of course...," he continued before Treville had a chance to say anything. The look on the cardinals face changed into a threatening expression. "... if the king were to learn of the break in information with his _beloved_ musketeers."

"I'll have you know that were doing everything we can to find the one who is behind this," Treville sneered and turned to leave the room.

"It's also come to my attention that the prodigal daughter of the musketeers have returned. But she has yet to respond to my summoning."

For the first time that day he sounded irritated. Not even bothering to hide the smile that was forming on his face, Treville turned around to face the cardinal again.

"That would be because I never passed the message on to her."

"And why is that?" came the quick reply. The cardinals eyes were thunderous.

"I already know her answer to your question. Iris is loyal to the musketeers – she would never leave to become a red guard."

"Could it be, you're afraid that I can offer her more than you?" the cardinal challenged, raising an eyebrow. Treville stood his ground, and spoke his next words with conviction.

"You could offer her the entire world, and she still wouldn't leave. That I am sure of."

* * *

Cardinal Richelieu walked the halls of the Louvre in anger.

He had meant to taunt the captain. His plan to discredit the musketeers was well underway, and at least it pleased him to see that Treville was clueless to where the threat was coming from.

The interest he showed in the girl was simply for the fun of it. He knew Treville cared for her – five years ago, after the attack at the palace, Treville had all but begged the king to give her a chance. He himself had been against it. A woman, bearing the title of a soldier? The idea was ridiculous. But as the king went on to give her a commission into the musketeers, he could do nothing but watch from the sidelines. When he heard of her recent return, he had begun to reach out to her. A mere distraction of course. He had no need of her in his regiment, but he knew the thought of losing her would crush Treville's spirit.

Entering the large room that served as his private office, he walked towards the desk at the end of the room. A moment later a secret door opened, and a woman peered out at him.

"I think were ready for another one," he began, barely looking at her as he sat down in his chair. "Be sure the boy is prepared"

With a nod, the woman disappeared and Richelieu found himself smiling. There was nothing quite like seeing a good plan working.

* * *

"That's it," Aramis exclaimed, running his hands through his hair. "I'm calling it. We've been at this for hours, and were none the wiser than when we began."

There were murmured sounds of agreement from the others. Porthos had begun pacing a while ago. D'Artagnan had laid down on the bench, covering his eyes from the sun with the back of his hand. Athos had thrown his doublet aside and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Iris had placed her head on the table, and now simply stayed there. Her thoughts had begun drifting again – Theo should be on his way to the mansion right now. A part of her feared what information he would return with. Either she would know the comte was still hovering over her shoulder... or he would be so deeply ingrained in her mind that she was imagining things.

Hearing Aramis and Porthos speak of getting something to eat, Iris turned her head to the side to watch the disappear into the kitchen.

"Say we don't figure this out," D'Artagnan mused slowly, "what happens then?"

"Surely the cardinal will use it to his advantage," Athos answered dryly. "We will loose our credibility. If the king ends his trust with the musketeers, he will turn to the red guard instead. Eventually we will all be made redundant."

"There's that optimism we talked about," Iris mumbled, and lifted her head from the table. Athos shrugged.

"We have to be realistic."

A shadow fell over the table, and the three of them turned their attention to the young man who had entered through the gates. Spotting the black cloth around his right arm, Iris straightened in her seat.

"I've come with an urgent message to captain Treville," he said, not looking any of them in the eye. D'Artagnan sprang up from his place on the bench.

"I'll show you to his office – I need to move my legs," he explained, gesturing for the informant to follow him. Iris followed them with her eyes till they disappeared through the door. It was unusual for an informant to come directly to the garrison. But then again, everything about the informants seemed unusual these days.

"Iris, about last night..."

She turned her attention towards Athos, who was looking at her with a thoughtful expression.

"Most of last night is... well, it's lost to me, so I hope I didn't behave inappropriately in any way."

"Not at all," she assured him, giving him a smile. "In fact, considering the state I found you, I had expected a lot worse."

They sat in silence for a moment. Athos thought again of how he had believed her appearance that night to be a dream, and wondered what was real and what wasn't. At the same time, Iris turned her head as she thought she heard something come from upstairs.

"When I woke this morning, I actually believed that I had dreamt -"

"Hold that thought," Iris interrupted, rising from her seat. The smile was gone, replaced by a frown. He followed her line of sight, and heard the same she had a moment ago. Coming from the door D'Artagnan had disappeared through not a minute ago, they now heard the sound of raised voices and hurried footsteps. The door was thrown open, and Treville appeared, his expression grave.

"It happened again. One informant murdered, no witnesses."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Would you look at that? I seems finishing my pre-presentation gave me a bit of free space in my head to write a little filler-chapter.**

 **It seems dangers lurks all around the musketeers! Next up; The five of them leave to seek out the man who is in charge of the informants, Iris comes dangerously close to the last place she wants to be, and Athos sees a new side of her - much to her displeasure.**


	10. Chapter 10

_There's something in the water  
I do not feel safe  
It always feels like torture  
to be this_ _close_

 _I wish that I was stronger_  
 _I'd separate the waves_  
 _Not just let the water_  
 _Take me away_

The Water - Hurts

* * *

The sound of raised voices had also attracted Aramis and Porthos, and the two of them joined Athos and Iris by the stairs. Treville was descending them with D'Artagnan following him. The informant lingered at the landing, watching with apprehension.

"Did my ears deceive me, or has there been another murder?" Aramis asked, a frown forming. When Treville nodded, each of the musketeers felt a bad feeling settle in their guts. Had they solved this case, another life wouldn't be lost. Treville looked thoughtful and glanced at them all.

"This cannot continue... you'll go straight to the source." Turning to Iris, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you not reside with monsieur Lavelle some time ago?"

"I have not spoken to Henri in months..." she admitted with a frown.

"Henri Lavelle is the man in charge of the informants," Treville explained and shook his head. "But he is a difficult man to find. As he is one of the few who can actually identify the informants he often travels to a new place for an unknown period of time."

"I believe I know how to find him," Iris added, and turned to hurry down the corridor that led to the rooms.

"Why have we not gone to see Lavelle before now?" Athos questioned.

"I didn't think it would be necessary. There's few people who are aware of the identities of the informants – Iris and myself being two of them. Lavelle supervises it all, so he will be the obvious person to begin with."

Turning around, Treville spotted the informant who still stood on the landing.

"You can go now," he said in a decisive voice. The informant cringed at the sudden change in the captains mood, and with a respectful nod he hurried through the gates. Just then Iris reappeared, carrying a slightly wrinkled piece of paper.

"He wrote me some time ago, offering me to come by his lodgings in Melun whenever I had time," she explained as she came to a stop next to them.

"With a quick rest on the way, we can be in Melun by noon tomorrow," Porthos noted.

"Then you better get going. Be ready to leave within the hour," Treville instructed.

* * *

Richelieu groaned and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Reading through the countless documents on his table was tiresome – but his job demanded it. When the secret door opened, he welcomed the distraction. The woman from before came through, followed by a young man who seemed nervous. Noticing the look on the woman's face, Richelieu felt his sudden excitement fade.

"Do you bring me bad news Milady?" he asked, watching as she turned expectantly to the man who had followed her.

"Your eminence," he began, bowing to the cardinal. "As always, I'm honoured to be in your presence-"

"Yes, yes, very well. Tell me what you know," Richelieu interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. The man swallowed hardly and looked at the cardinal.

"As we speak, the musketeers are preparing to go see a man called Henri Lavelle..."

His words trailed off as the cardinal straightened in his chair.

"You assured me that there would be no problems with Lavelle," Richelieu hissed threateningly at Milady. Keeping her face calm, she slowly began pacing.

"His death would have brought unnecessary attention – of course, now he cannot be allowed to live. He was fool enough to betray the musketeers once, he will not make that mistake again."

Glancing at him, she raised an eyebrow and urged the young man to continue speaking.

"I understand they're leaving as soon as they can, the captain was very distressed. Only..." the man stopped speaking and looked at the floor.

"Only. What?" the cardinal asked, the cold calmness of his voice sending shivers through the man.

"Only, they sent me away before mentioning where they were going."

"I've secured someone to follow them, and take out Lavelle before they have a chance to speak to him," Milady hastily said, sensing the rage that was building in the cardinal.

"Surely a man we can trust to keep his mouth shut, should he be captured," Richelieu asked, clenching and unclenching his hands.

"Naturally," she assured him. As she made for the man to follow her through the door again, he moved towards the desk and looked pleadingly at the cardinal.

"Our deal still stands, does it not your eminence? I have done as you asked, I've brought you valuable information-"

"You have brought me a barely adequate amount of information," Richelieu sneered, folding his hands in front of him. "If you think I'll give you _anything_ before I've reached my target, you'll be very disappointed."

* * *

Packing only the bare necessities, they were ready to leave the garrison within the hour.

They made their way through Paris quickly, and once they reached the open fields that surrounded the city, their pace slowed as Iris explained more of the man they were going to see.

She had met Henri Lavelle little over a year ago, on behalf on Treville to gather information on a case she had been working at the moment. Henri showed to be a strange sort of man – though he seemed to be a loyal sort of man, she had at times wondered just how much his loyalty would stretch. Still, as they rode through the stony roads, she found it hard to believe that he would betray the musketeers in such a way. Looking after the informants was his sole purpose, as he had mentioned to her on one of her brief visits. He felt it was his contribution to the country.

As the sun began to disappear behind the trees, they started discussing where to make a stop to get some rest before continuing to Melun. Though they could find ways to navigate in the darkness of the night, there was an agreement that a few hours of rest would do them all good.

Iris had drifted towards the rear of the group as the terrain shifted from small roads to forest. She was usually lucky with her sense of direction, but nothing around her looked recognisable. Despite not being familiar with their whereabouts, a strange feeling had slowly been building inside her. Almost as if she should be aware of something, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it...

"I believe if we ride on for another half hour," she heard Athos say," we should reach a small village, connecting with the lands of the comte Demont."

"As long as we find a warm bed and perhaps a bottle of wine, I'll be satisfied," Porthos called over his shoulder. Aramis chuckled and shook his head at his friend.

"Securing a bed should be the least of our problems – I have heard rumours of the... shall we say, hospitality of the people from these parts."

"Be that as it may," D'Artagnan said, cocking an eyebrow, "I'll venture a guess and say the majority of us prefers a bed in an inn than something so informal."

"Don't be so sure," Aramis answered, and got a mischievous look in his eyes. "I remember how, on a hunt through the woods, we decided to rest where we were. Finding the ground too cold and hard, Iris climbed a large tree and fell asleep on a broad branch several feet above the ground. Said it was the best sleep she had had in a long while, do you remember Iris?"

There was sounds of muffled laughter from the others, but he heard no response from Iris. After a moment, he turned in his saddle and frowned as he noticed she had fallen behind.

* * *

Athos' words echoed through her mind, growing louder and louder ever second.

The strange feeling she had carried for a while, sensing that she should be on her guard... but of course. She hadn't given much thought to their direction, and she barely recognised the surroundings because she had spent years avoiding going just this way.

Her hands were shaking violently as she brought her horse to a stop. This could just as well be the place where she had encountered Treville, that night many years ago. Which would mean she was closer than she had ever been before. Closer than she ever wanted to be again. Feeling as though something was about to break inside her, she became painfully aware of the four men who had turned their horses around to look at her.

"You okay there?" Porthos called, the laughter from before gone. He exchanged a glance with Aramis who frowned back at him.

"You know, the faster we get there the faster you'll be rid of us," he offered, hoping his joking would ease the tension that had appeared. Iris forced herself to look at them, and tried to speak.

"I'm..." It almost sounded like a sob, and she bit down hard on her lip, tasting blood. _Not now. You cant do this in front of them._ "I just... I need to take care of something. Go on without me."

With that she turned her horse around and urged it in the direction they came from. Porthos cleared his throat.

"That was strange," D'Artagnan voiced after a moment.

"A woman needing a moment alone? I think we'd better comply and carry on," Porthos said and began turning his horse. Aramis seemed thoughtful, but then sighed and turned his horse as well.

"I think I'll stay behind," Athos muttered, watching the place in the trees where she had disappeared. "I got the feeling she is unfamiliar with these parts."

"Might want to give her a few minutes before going after her," Aramis warned him. "Whatever her mood might be, she's not appreciative of being followed when she's explicitly asked otherwise."

"Have a bit of faith," Porthos joked as he, Aramis and D'Artagnan continued on their way. "I'm sure Athos can handle one woman's mood."

* * *

As Aramis had warned him, Athos waited a few minutes before bringing his horse into a slow walk. It shouldn't come as a surprise that Iris would need a moment alone – after all they had been on the road for some time. Normally, they wouldn't think much of something like this, but travelling with a woman would bring some changes no matter what.

Turning a corner, he began frowning. Just how far had she gone? They were losing the light by the minute, and though he was in no immediate hurry, he found himself itching to get his hands on a bottle of wine.

After a while with no traces of her, he urged the horse to move faster, and started to feel a strange worry. Though there had been no traces of their pursuers from a few weeks ago, he couldn't help but feel as though they hadn't seen the last from them. When he saw the horse Iris had been riding down the road, he felt the worry melt away, only to reappear again almost instantly.

She was nowhere to be seen. Iris hadn't even bothered to tie the horse to anything. Sliding down from his own, he fastened the reins of both horses to a nearby tree and began surveying the area. There seemed to be no signs of a struggle. For whatever reason, she had disappeared on her own. Straining his ears, he heard s rustle of leaves nearby, and made he way into the treeline.

When he finally spotted her, he stopped and tried to determine whether or not to make his presence known. Her back was turned to him, and she was leaning against a tree, one hand placed on the trunk as though to keep her stable.

As she just stood there, he began feeling his patience thin. It had been one of those days he just wanted to end.

"Are you ready to move on?" he said after a moment, moving closer. When she still didn't react, he exhaled deeply and walked towards her.

"I don't know what this is Iris, but we're losing light and-"

His words trailed off when he came to a stop in front of her and saw the look on her face.

* * *

Iris felt it coming from the second she rode away from the others. The shaking in her hands had moved to the rest of her body, and without fully understanding the severity of her reaction she knew what was coming.

Everything she had kept locked away in her mind, all the memories and thoughts of this place, _this wretched place_ , came thundering back bringing nothing but pain.

 _You've walked straight into the lions den without realising it,_ she thought as her heart began beating faster. Her throat seemed to close and her lungs felt tight – much much too tight.

She had felt something like this before, especially in the time after she had left the mansion. Normally, it would be the reaction to a nightmare or the rare sighting of someone who looked suspiciously like either the comte or his son. But this was something entirely new. Stronger, wilder, and she had no idea how to control it.

 _They'll know. They'll know, and they'll come for you,_ a voice whispered inside her mind, forcing another sob though her already closed throat.

Feeling her breathing spin out of control, she leaned against a nearby tree as it all began to overwhelm her. Closing her eyes, she could imagine it all too clearly. The moment she set foot on Demont's lands, someone would have recognised her and rushed to bring the news to the comte. He would send someone for her. They would see her part with her four companions and smile at her mistake – she had made it too easy for them. In the state she was in, she would be too shocked to fight it. Before she knew it that someone would have brought her back to the mansion. And that would have been it. No matter how well she could defend herself, there was no fighting Demont. Just the thought of him could bring her to her knees. She wasn't strong enough to face him.

When she felt a pair of hands come to rest on her face, she felt a jolt go through her. Could it be that her line of thoughts had been true?

Opening her eyes she vaguely recognised the man who stood before her. She gasped under her breath, and felt tears of frustration sting her eyes. _I cant control it_...

"Iris! What happened?" Athos demanded, carefully turning her head, forcing her to look at him.

"I cant... I cant breathe," she managed to whisper.

"We'll deal with that first them," he said calmly, "You need to relax. Find something to focus on."

"I cant..." she repeated, closing her eyes again. _How can I focus on anything, when everything inside me is a mess_?

She felt him brush away one of the tears that had made it's way down her face. Much gentler than she would have expected.

"Me then. Focus on me," he continued, in the same calm voice.

This was what she got for spending years denying what her life had been like. Whenever she had been confronted with something that reminded her of her past, she would always find a way to move the conversation onwards. This she would not be able to talk her way out of.

 _Deal with that later, first you need to calm down!_

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes once more and did as he asked of her – she focused on him.

Though the expression on his face was calm, his eyes showed worry. She hadn't realised how close he stood to her, almost as close as they had been in the alley a few weeks ago. He had worried for her then as well.

Iris hated it when people worried about her. She knew she wasn't supposed to, she even appreciated the gesture of it, but god, she hated it. More often than not it made her feel week. Standing with Athos now, she felt weak in an entirely different way. Without realising it, she had leaned into his touch, feeling the tightness of her lungs slowly fade away. He blinked and let his eyes search her face – such a lovely shade of blue. It had never occurred to her to look at his eyes, really look at them, before now. To be fair, the last time she had been close enough to really see them they had been in danger of being discovered by their mysterious pursuers.

"Deep breaths," he quietly instructed, watching her closely. It took her another minute to somewhat regain control of her breathing. In the end she was still shaking slightly, and her heart was beating faster then it normally would.

"Now," Athos said, taking a deep breath himself, "explain to me what this was all about."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Next up; Iris tries desperately to put up her walls, Demont and son discuss what they'll do next and Athos deals with an innkeeper who assumes too much...**


	11. Chapter 11

_And I had the week that came from hell  
And yes I know that you could tell  
But you're like the net under the ledge  
When I go flying off the edge  
You go flying off as well _

Something I Need - OneRepublic

* * *

 _"_ _Don't shut the people in your life out,"_ she remembered Theo say the other night. If she lied to Athos now, that would be exactly what she did. It was what she had done for years, to Aramis and Marsac, to Treville, and now Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan.

If she told him, she knew what would come next. They would act over protectively, and seek out Demont. That would lead to a confrontation and seeing how she dealt with just standing on his lands that was out of the question.

But perhaps she could find a way through this without having to lie or let go of all of her secrets. Considering how Athos seemed to have his own demons to battle with, he would understand her need to keep something to herself, wouldn't he?

"I'm... I'm not sure what to say," she stammered, averting her eyes. There was that look, _that blasted look_ , in his eyes. He pitied her.

 _What if that is the only way he will ever look at you again? s_ he shuddered at the thought.

"Perhaps we should find somewhere else to talk," he muttered, and glanced around them. He couldn't help but have a feeling of being watched – the forest was far too open for his liking, and the light was all but gone.

Letting his hands fall from her face, he guided her back through the trees to where their horses stood tied.

"If we hurry, we might catch up with the others before they reach the village," Athos observed, noticing a sudden change in her eyes.

"Athos, I cant go there."

"And why is that?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. Iris swallowed and glanced down the road. She was going nowhere near that place.

"This may sound strange as I've given you no reason to, but I need you to trust me on this."

"Where are you gonna go?" he asked with disbelief, watching her untie her horse. She shrugged and brought it back on the road.

"I'm sure I'll find something," she said and prepared to mount her horse.

"Iris, you cant mean that," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder to keep her on the ground. "Not only is it a bad idea to ride in the dark, but there's no telling when you'll find another place to rest."

"I'll take my chances," Iris muttered and made to mount again. His hand pulled her back and spun her around to face him.

"I'm not letting you ride away like this," Athos said decisively. Iris felt a small stab of irritation.

"I really don't need to be looked after like this," she shrugged his hand off her shoulder and was surprised to see a look of hurt flash over his eyes.

"You're unfamiliar with these roads, you have no light to help you along, and you're still upset from before. You are _not_ going out there alone," he declared, looking at her sternly.

"And I'm _not_ going down there," she countered, standing her ground. For a moment they stood like that in silence, waiting for the other to give in.

"Fine," he sighed, and much to her surprise he went to his own horse, "we'll simply find somewhere else."

"We – what?"

"If I cant let you go alone, and you wont come to the village, all there's left to do is to is for both of us to find somewhere else," he said dismissively, and untied his horse. Turning back to her, he raised an eyebrow at her look of surprise.

"No," she began, and felt heat come into her cheeks. "This is my problem, you shouldn't-"

"Those are your options," he interrupted and brought his horse over next to hers. "You come with me, or we take another way – together."

"In other words, I'm stuck with you no matter what," she muttered, slowly shaking her head. "People often call me stubborn, but it would seem I've met my match."

"Another thing," he added as they mounted their horses and began down the road they had originally come from," what happened before... I'm not going to let that slide."

 _Of course not_ , she thought and took a deep breath. This could turn out to be a long night.

* * *

The more distance they put between themselves and Demont's lands, the better Iris felt. It did however bother her that Athos had insisted on following her – somehow it seemed childish considering how he didn't know the circumstances. He shouldn't have to deal with this, as it was her cross to bear. Surely, by now he could be somewhere with the others doing whatever he pleased, instead of feeling compelled to watch over her.

They didn't speak much, which at the moment was something she preferred. When they eventually would find somewhere to rest their horses, and themselves, he would have questions. And seeing as he had helped her regain some form of control over her breakdown, and was now riding through almost impenetrable darkness, she felt that she owed him some answers.

 _Some_ , a voice warned in her head. _You can only handle so much at the moment._

It would take them another hour till they spotted somewhere suitable. Down the side of the road they were on, lay a little inn. Exchanging a glance they made their way towards it. Iris was beginning to feel the exhaustion of the day – so many hours of riding and the stress of finding herself in the last place she wished to be had taken it's toll on her. Perhaps, if she was lucky, she could sneak off to bed before he started questioning her.

"I'll take the horses if you secure the beds," she offered as they dismounted. Handing over the reins, Athos walked towards the door as she brought the horses into the adjoining stables.

A few other horses were already there, and she found herself wondering if there was room enough.

 _What does it matter,_ she thought and almost smiled to herself, _Aramis was right. I can sleep just about everywhere._

* * *

The front room of the inn was empty when Athos entered. A fire was roaring from a fireplace across the room, giving everything a warm glow. Down the hall he could hear the sound of talking and laughter and felt the itching for a bottle of wine again.

 _All in good time_ , he reminded himself and walked over to the counter to ring the bell. Not a moment later did the innkeeper – a middle-aged man with a pleasant smile – appear through a door.

"Good evening Monsieur," he greeted Athos, "I hope I'm not in trouble," he added jokingly as his eyes fell on the pauldron on Athos' shoulder.

"Even if you are, that's not why I'm here," he sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. Why couldn't he ever meet an innkeeper who simply handed him a key and let him on his way?

"You're in need of a room, yes? I watched you appear from the window, and I must say you're very lucky indeed. The only room I have left is just perfect for you and your wife."

Athos stiffened and let his hand drop to his side.

"My what?"

"Your wife - the woman you came with," the innkeeper continued as he began rustling through some papers on the counter. Athos watched him for a moment before realising what he had said.

"Oh no, that's – I'm not married," he hurriedly said, feeling his shoulders tense. That was half a lie.

The innkeeper looked up from his papers.

"I see," he said and winked with a knowing expression," your mistress then."

"That's not the case either," Athos maintained, suddenly very happy that Iris had taken the horses to the stables.

"Pardon me," the innkeeper said inclining his head. "You see, this place lies so secluded from everything, we're rarely visited from people with other agendas than a night with-"

"Yes, thank you, that will suffice," Athos held up a hand as he interrupted. _Does this man have no filter?_

A gush of cold air filled the room as Iris entered. The smile on the innkeeper lit up as he hurried around the counter to greet her.

"Good evening, mademoiselle," he said and reached for her hand.

"Good evening, Monsieur," she greeted with a tired smile.

"I was just telling your..." he stopped and gestured to Athos with a questioning look," friend?"

"Colleague," she corrected him and watched him narrow his eyes. A second later he shrugged and returned to the counter.

"Well, as I was telling your _colleague_ ," he returned his attention to some papers on the table," I have one room left." He stopped and looked up. "But of course, as the circumstances are different... you might not be interested."

"Circumstances?" Iris asked, glancing at Athos. He was slowly shaking his head, keeping his eyes fixed on a point over the innkeepers shoulder.

"Oh I'm sure it wont matter," the innkeeper said with a dismissive wave, and turned to retrieve a key from a board on the wall behind the counter. "There'll be plenty of room for both of you."

Before Athos could ask what exactly he meant by that, Iris had thrown a few coins on the counter and reached for the key.

"As long as I can get a few hours of rest, I'll be satisfied."

"I hope you will," the innkeeper said and gave Athos another knowing smile.

"I'll be a just a moment," he muttered, as the innkeeper gestured down the hall for Iris. When he returned to the counter, Athos cleared his throat.

"Would you by any chance know of anyone around here who can deliver a message to a village just under two hours travel from here," he asked. The innkeeper frowned slightly.

"I have a young lad who might be persuaded – for the right price of course. Is it urgent?"

"It will be," Athos admitted and threw some extra coins on the table. "If I could have something to write on and with. And a bottle of wine now you're at it," he added.

When the innkeeper returned with what Athos had requested, he brought it to a table near the fire and quickly scribbled down a few words.

 _Something has come up_

 _We'll explain on another occasion_

 _Continue to Melun without us,_

 _we'll meet you on the way_

 _Athos_

Rolling up the note, he sealed it and handed it to a young man who had been summoned by the innkeeper.

"You know which village I speak of?" he asked. The young man nodded.

"Bring this to a musketeer called Aramis," Athos instructed and stood up. "You're likely to find him somewhere with lots of women and quite possibly a game of cards."

* * *

Andre was pacing in front of the fireplace, looking up at his father in disbelief every other second.

"... and that is where I believe she will stay for the night," the man before the comte ended his story. Garrett had laced his fingers in front of him and looked at the man with a thoughtful expression.

"And is she alone?" he asked calmly. The man fidgeted nervously.

"Well... no. There is a man with her. The same man from last time, I believe."

Andre snorted.

"What do you know, little miss perfect is at it again," he muttered under his breath, but was silenced by the look his father gave him.

"You will keep observing – from a distance. This is not Paris, there is no crowd to hide in," Garrett instructed.

"You cannot be serious!" Andre shot away from the fireplace to stand before his father. "She is practically standing in our backyard – she has never been this close before! Give me one good reason why we shouldn't take her now?"

Garrett sighed and rose from his chair. Even though Andre was slightly taller than his father, he always managed so seem smaller when they stood face to face.

"The same reason I've always given you. We cannot attract attention by doing that." He turned to the man who stood up straighter as the comte neared him. "This man who is with her – were you not instructed to kill him?"

"Yes, my lord," he said, averting his eyes.

"Why then," Garrett said silkily, "is he still alive? Furthermore, _why_ is he with her?"

Andre let out an involuntary snicker that rubbed off on the man.

"Well, gee father. Why would a man spend a night – several nights – with a woman?"

"ENOUGH," Garrett turned around with a sudden fire, silencing his son again. "I want him gone. You let them finish whatever mission they're on and return to Paris. There you will find a way to get them out in the open, and then, _by god_ , you do as you're told!"

Andre swallowed hard, and let his eyes fall on the ground.

"Yes father."

Garrett watched him for a moment and then walked over to a dresser and lifted a small wooden box from the bottom drawer.

"I've had this custom made for... a special occasion," he explained, carefully bringing the box back to his chair. Andre and the man both moved closer, and looked with interest as Garrett removed the lid.

Inside, on a carpet of expensive looking silk, lay a small dagger. The blade itself was small, but broad and incredibly sharp. The hilt was black, adorned with golden lines.

"I believe his death will be the right way to use it."

"Kill him with _that_?" Andre asked with disbelief, looking at his father as though he was mad. "That thing can hardly do anything more than a paper-cut."

"You judge too soon – _don't touch it_ ," he hissed as Andre reached out a hand. "Looks can be deceiving, boy. Did I not say it was custom made? It's _supposed_ to look innocent. The blade is made to shatter upon impact, thereby creating more damage than a normal blade would. But -" he quickly said as Andre prepared to speak again, "- that is not all. The blade is laced with a poison. I'm under the impression that the effect when mixed directly with blood is quite... deadly."

He put the lid back and held the box out for Andre.

"I trust you will be careful with it – after all, it was quite expensive and it's the only one I have at hand."

Andre carefully accepted the box and an excited smile appeared on his face.

"I cannot wait to see it in action, father."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Thank you all for the reviews - especially those from guests I cannot reply to.**

 **Here comes a fun fact; The dagger I'm describing was actually one of the very first things I had planned for this story - so keep an eye out for that!**

 **Next up; Aramis get's a message, Porthos meets a man who cheats better than he does himself, and Athos is shocked to find that the plenty-of-room-for-both-of-you room... is the honeymoon-suite.**


	12. Chapter 12

_I'd like to hold you close_

 _Make you feel safe_

 _Not so afraid of yourself_

 _If we have to part so it shall be_

 _I'd like to help you suffer less_

 _Not be so locked up in your thoughts_

 _Afraid of love and all under the sun_

Afraid – Sarah Fimm

* * *

Aramis had never been the worrying kind – in fact, he liked things as carefree as possible. And yet, since they had parted ways with Athos, he couldn't shake the feeling.

 _Perhaps I should have gone after her instead of Athos_ , he thought to himself for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"You know, a watched pot never boils," D'Artagnan voice cut through his train of thought, and Aramis turned his gaze from the door to his friend.

"Come again?"

D'Artagnan shook his head and leaned his elbows on the table.

"They're not going to magically appear because you keep staring at the door," he said, and nodded his head towards the door Aramis had been watching.

They had reached the village about half and hour after leaving Athos and Iris, and had quickly found a tavern that also offered accommodation.

Settling down in a corner, they had ordered something to eat, and before long some bottles of wine. Growing tired of waiting, Porthos suggested a game of cards, which D'Artagnan quickly declined.

"Oh no, absolutely not," he had said, holding up his hands before him. "I'm not falling for that again. I'm already more behind on my rent that I care to admit, and I would hate to give Bonacieux more reason to remind me of that."

Aramis has been too lost in his thoughts to even register the offer, so now Porthos sat nearby with a lonely traveller. Even from a distance they could see the glint in his eye he usually got when he cheated in a game. It wasn't easy to spot, but once you knew it was there, you could always recognise it.

"I'm sure they've found somewhere else to rest," D'Artagnan continued, giving him an assuring smile. "The men who pointed us here also mentioned an inn a short distance away. Perhaps they've gone there instead."

"Perhaps they have," Aramis sighed and took a lifted his glass again.

* * *

Athos thought it best to send the message straight away. Though the boy seemed young, he had assured Athos that he was as familiar with the lands as the back of his hand. Taking a short-cut, he could be at the village within the hour.

By now they must be wondering where the two of them had disappeared to. Though having their mission, he knew the unspoken rule of the musketeers; no brother is left behind. If they had any reason to believe something was out of order, he knew the three of them would have spent the night combing through every inch of the forest to find any trace of them – as he would have done himself.

There had been no question of whether or not he should have tried to talk Iris into coming with him to the village. Without knowing the reason behind it, the look in her eyes had spoken for itself. The mere thought of going any closer had terrified her, and as they moved away from it he had sensed some of the tension leave her.

And now he had questions. She had told him before that she didn't like speaking of her past, and somehow he was convinced that her reaction was connected to it. Perhaps if he went about it carefully – no reason to upset her further.

He saw her standing by the door of the room she had been pointed to, speaking quietly with the innkeeper. There was a look of mild amusement on her face, and as he neared, the innkeeper bid her goodnight and disappeared through another door.

"I sent a message to Aramis," he said as he came to a stop next to her. "Told him something came up, and we'll meet them on the road tomorrow."

"Good."

They stood in silence for a moment, and Athos became strangely aware of the way she was looking at him.

"Do I want to know what you and the innkeeper were talking about just now?" he asked slowly, feeling he might not like the answer.

Her smile grew a bit wider as she glanced to where he had disappeared to.

"He simply wanted to apologize for making assumptions," she raised an eyebrow as she watched his reaction, "and brought some food and an extra bottle of wine to make up for it. Complimentary, I believe he said."

Athos sighed and shook his head. When he made to walk inside, Iris hand shot out to hold him back.

"Before you go in there," she said, trying to look serious, "know that it's not ideal, but we can make do."

"It cant be that bad," he muttered and brushed her hand aside so her could enter.

 _Perhaps it can_ , he thought as he let his eyes go over the room.

A warm glow lit up the room from the fireplace. Two comfortable looking armchairs stood nearby, with a small table placed between them. On the table stood two bottles of wine, two glasses and a small assortment of bread and cheese. On what seemed to be every available surface in the room, candles of different colours and sizes stood, unlit. On each of the bedside tables, a crystal-like glass vase held a variety of flowers, that seemed to be on the verge of withering. But what looked to be the main attraction of the room was the bed. The frame was intricately carved in dark wood, and drapes of violet tulle hung in waves on each side.

Where the rest of the inn hadn't looked in any way out of the ordinary, this room did.

"He called it the honeymoon-suite, which is ironic due to our _circumstances_ ," she said over his shoulder. Even without looking at her, he knew she was holding back a laugh.

"Forgive me if I fail to see the humour in this," he muttered as he walked inside. Iris closed the door behind her and shrugged off her blue jacket.

"Really? Because I'm not sure what to do but laugh," she walked past him and turned to gesture to the room. "See, this is what you get for not leaving me alone." When he raised his eyebrows, Iris let her arms fall to her side and slowly shook her head. "Perhaps you'll appreciate the irony of all this tomorrow," she muttered and threw her jacket over the back of one of the armchairs.

"I'm sure I will," he said and sank down onto the other chair. Pouring himself a glass of wine, he quickly downed it and began on another. As if today hadn't been long enough.

"This isn't so bad," Iris admitted as she sat down. In a swift motion, she took off her boots and drew her legs to her chest. "I could probably get a few good hours here..."

"If you think I've forgotten why were here, you'll be very disappointed," Athos said and saw the smile slowly evaporate from her face. Setting down his glass, Athos leaned forward in his chair again and looked her straight in the eyes. "What happened out there?"

Iris took a moment to consider what to say. When she finally spoke, her voice was insecure but gained more strength as the words left her.

"I didn't realise which way we were going, because I've spent years trying to forget that place," her eyes closed as she took a deep breath. "And so, when I realised where we were I reacted... badly."

He sat for a moment, waiting for her to continue.

"Badly is a terrible understatement – you were afraid Iris, that much was clear."

"Overwhelmed, I'd say," Iris wrapped her arms around her knees and let her head sink down. Perhaps it would be easier if she didn't have to look at him. "I've kept it all so safely tucked away in my mind, so when the confrontation finally came the force was more than... it was more than I could handle," she admitted with defeat.

Athos heard the change in her voice, but decided to let it slide. If he interrupted her now she might decide to stop speaking altogether.

"When I think of my life, the bad strongly outweighs the good. Remembering it all reminds me of who I was before, and I'm terrified that if I dwell on the memories long enough I will become her again."

"I'm having a hard time imagining you different than you are now," Athos said slowly, watching how her shoulders had started to shake slightly. Perhaps it had been wrong to make her do this, to bring herself to such a vulnerable place that she so obviously hated.

"I was weak. For years, I was too afraid I couldn't fit in anywhere else so I accepted the life I had been stuck with, working for a horrible person – being content that I would be there for the rest of my life, until he -"

Iris froze in place. She couldn't do it. _You're still too afraid_ , the small voice inside her sneered. She became uncomfortably aware of Athos' stare, but decided to keep her face hidden.

"Until he _what_?" he pressed on.

"No, I shouldn't have said that," she muttered, tightening her arms around her legs as though it would help keep her together.

"Who did this, and what did he do to you?"

"I shouldn't have said anything," she whispered again, feeling tears sting her eyes. _What is wrong with you_? The voice continued, as though mocking her. _You're supposed to be tougher than this_.

"Look at me," Athos continued and when she didn't move, he reached out a hand and moved a strand of hair away from her face. Opening her eyes again, she was surprised to see him kneeling before her chair. She hadn't heard him move. "If the man you worked for mistreated you in any way-"

"He never laid a hand on me," she interrupted, her voice suddenly calm. It was true. Demont had never behaved aggressively towards her – at least not visibly. He certainly didn't have a problem showing his anger towards the rest of the staff at the mansion, even regularly showing his disappointment in Andre. But never towards her. He had taken to torment her in an entirely different way.

"He did something to you," Athos went on, his eyes showing a building anger. "It's tearing you apart, and probably have been for years. Saying it out loud might feel better than you think."

And involuntary laugh escaped her, and she slowly shook her head at him.

"It seems like you should take a step back and follow your own advice," she said, a sad smile forming.

"Perhaps I am meant to fix your problems, before I can deal with my own," he admitted. Her green eyes slowly softened as she calmed herself.

"Oh Athos," she sighed and to the surprise of both of them, she leaned forward and let her head rest on his shoulder. "You cannot fix what is already broken."

"If you tell me who he is, I can certainly give it a try," he muttered and pulled her closer. Though comforting women seemed to be Aramis are of expertise, Athos had at times found himself in situations where he would have to provide some comforting words. Back at the woods, it had come naturally to him, just like it did now. It just made sense.

"I'd rather you didn't," she whispered. "What's done is done."

Leaning back to look him in the eyes, she placed a hand on his cheek. "But since you seem compelled to look out for me, there is one thing I want you to do."

"And that is?"

"Help me forget. Living it was bad enough; I have no desire to re-live it in my mind. Help me feel strong. Be patient with me, and trust that I will open up when I'm ready. And in time, I will do the same for you, if you want it."

They sat like that for a while, only hearing the sounds of the crackling fire behind them.

Iris had fully believed that she could go through it alone – which was why she had never confided in anyone. But if she had someone to lean on when it became too hard, she might finally have the freedom to show her weakness. Athos wouldn't judge her for it, that she was sure of.

"I'd like that," he finally said.

* * *

Aramis and D'Artagnan looked up as Porthos arrived back at their table, a look of wonder and irritation on his face.

"What's with you?" D'Artagnan asked, as he sat down in a chair between them.

"That sly bastard hustled me," he growled and poured himself a glass of wine from the half-empty bottle on the table. "Nothing else makes sense."

"Could it be," Aramis began, raising an eyebrow at his friend," that he was simply a lucky man?"

"No one is that lucky!"

"Did you cheat?" D'Artagnan failed miserably at hiding the smug smile on his face – as much as he appreciated Porthos friendship, it did bring him some joy at seeing the man loose. Porthos shrugged, leaving Aramis to roll his eyes.

"In that case, I take it back. It was not luck, but merely what the people call karma."

"I'll give you karma," Porthos began, but was silenced as a young man appeared at their table.

"I have a message for a musketeer called Aramis," he said, producing a small note from his inner pocket.

"From who?" Aramis frowned as he took it. The young man shrugged and was about to turn away when Aramis spoke up again. "Are you gonna need to bring an answer back?"

"I was just asked to bring this to you."

Breaking the seal, he unrolled the the note and immediately recognised Athos handwriting.

"Well," Porthos said, the irritation from before gone. Aramis re-read the note and passed it on.

"It would seem I've worried for nothing," he muttered, wondering what could possibly have come up.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Ah, yes. I cannot tell you all how many times I've written and re-written this one - I knew there's been some expectations, and fear not! They will be met as the story progresses. (the honeymoon-suite will make a reappearance soon enough)**

 **I'll see if I can squeeze in another chapter during this weekend - the exam project showed to be more demanding than I had expected.**

 **Next up; Athos considers his behaviour around Iris, the scene moves to Melun where they're confronted with Porthos new friend, and Iris grows angry as she learns of Henri's betrayal.**


	13. Chapter 13

_You've got your reasons_

 _And me I've got mine_

 _But all the reasons I gave_

 _Were just lies to buy myself some time_

Ocean Of Noise – Arcade Fire

* * *

Iris woke up to a quiet room. A sliver of light was making it's way through the window, telling her that dawn was almost upon them. Her body ached as she moved out of the position she had fallen asleep in – a blanket draped over her shoulders, and her legs folded against her chest.

Athos was still asleep. She could hear his soft breathing, and could just see him through the darkness in the room. The fire had died out some time in the night.

When they'd finally parted last night, he had coaxed her into eating something. She'd even accepted the glass of wine he had handed her, and not long after that she had drifted off to sleep.

They hadn't spoken much, and she knew it was because neither of them knew what to say. Her emotions last night had been all over the place.

Glancing back out the window, she let out a sigh and stood up. As quietly as she could, she put on her boots and grabbed the jacket that still lay over the back of her chair. Before leaving, she glanced at Athos and felt her shoulders fall. Even in sleep, he looked exhausted. The bottles of wine on the table were both empty.

 _I've brought you more trouble than I'm worth_ , she thought and reached for the blanket she had slept with. Carefully placing it over him, she stood back and watched him. Here was a man who had stayed by her side, despite not knowing why it was needed.

Sighing again, she put on her jacket, and grabbed the now empty basket on the table that had contained their food.

The inn was quiet. Though she knew the travellers would soon be up and ready to leave, it was still just early enough for anyone to be awake. The counter stood empty when she came to the front room, so she just left the basket there and headed for the door.

She could feel the dew in the air the moment she stepped outside. The sound of birds welcoming the day filled the air, and she allowed herself to smile. Yes, she would prefer Paris to these lands in a heartbeat – but nothing could compare to stepping outside and feel the nature coming to life around her. The sound of the city brought a different sort of comfort, but this was what she'd grown up to love. Her mother had often brought her through the fields in the morning, taking her to that special place where they would watch the sun rise together.

Iris began walking through the wet grass, needing to move. The cool air did wonders for her head, so she took a few deep breaths to rid herself of the lingering feeling from last night.

She hadn't meant for things to get so emotional. Part of her had expected her to just tell him what was needed, and then be done with it. Instead she had discovered that she could barely do that.

She had been right about her fears of telling Athos who was the reason behind her fear. She had seen the fire in his eyes as he had urged her to continue to speak. Whatever his reasons were, he had genuinely wanted to help her make it right.

And instead she had made him promise to help her get past it. Over the years, that's what she really wanted... wasn't it? If she ever were to confront Demont, it would be for her own peace of mind. Had he actually mistreated her, things might be different. There was the part where he had moved her to the cellar of course, but as much as she considered it she couldn't see the crime. She had heard worse stories of how noblemen had treated their servants.

Iris spotted a large rock nearby and moved over to sit down. A small hill spread out before her, and through a barely visible layer of fog, she saw rays of sun appear behind a line of trees.

But the crime would have come. Though she could barely stand the thought, she knew he would have found a way to force the marriage. And then what came next... a shudder went through her at the thought. It was part of the reason she had never been close to any man. In fact, other than friendly or comforting embraces, she hadn't willingly let herself be held by anyone till last night. And what surprised her most, was that she hadn't wanted it to end.

* * *

Through the window, Athos watched her shadow move a little bit away from the inn, and then settle on a rock nearby. He had pretended to sleep, and didn't open his eyes till she closed the door behind her.

There had been something between the two of them last night, when he promised he would be there for her and vice versa. And then, as the moment ended, he became all too aware of how close he was to her, and abruptly moved away from her again.

And yet, after almost two bottles of wine and a long inner discussion with himself, he still couldn't come to a conclusion on what it meant.

There was a part of him that wanted to turn his back on all of it; it was the same part that night after night dragged him into drunken oblivion. The part that believed he should stay away from women altogether. And then there was another part, a small light in the darkness, that seemed to grow stronger whenever Iris was near.

He remembered how Aramis had said she had a way of affecting the people around her. Though he wouldn't have admitted it before, now it seemed quite obvious that he himself had fallen under her spell. And he didn't mind.

The sun had moved to the top of the trees when he finally walked out to her. Iris glanced up as he came to a stop by her side and then she brought her eyes back on the sight before her.

"My mother loved to watch the sun rise," she quietly muttered after a moment. Athos sat down next to her and let his gaze go over the land before them. "She used to say it was the worlds way of letting us know it's okay to start over."

She moved slightly on the rock so she was facing him.

"I didn't get a chance of saying this last night, but I really do appreciate you being there for me. Even if I don't show it," she added. When he turned back to her, he was glad to see her smiling. "It's hard for me to admit I need a helping hand every now and then. But I would hate for you to think I might break every other moment."

"I can assure you that I do not think you weak. Despite whatever you have been through, you still wake up every day with the urge to go on. I admire that."

He stood up and looked towards the stables.

"Speaking of going on. I believe we can cross ways with the others just short of Melun if we leave now."

Iris sprang up and walked past him. Though there was still a trace of last night in her eyes, she seemed to have found herself again.

"By all means, lead the way."

* * *

They had left the village some time after the sun had risen. On the way, Aramis and D'Artagnan had competed with one another of who could make the most references to Porthos loss last night, much to his annoyance.

"It's very funny. You're both so very, _very_ , funny," he muttered as they went on their way.

He perked up a bit as he saw two riders come towards them from another road.

"Ah, finally. I might get some peace from the two of you."

Aramis let his eyes fall on them as well. There didn't seem to be anything wrong – in fact, both of them seemed in quite good spirits, which for Iris didn't seem out of order, but Athos was happier than normally.

"And just what is it you two have been up to?" he asked cheerily as they neared. Iris shrugged, as she moved her horse to ride next to him.

"It's rather a long story," Iris began, and was quickly supported by Athos. "A problem arose, and we took care of it, nothing more. We'll talk about it when we return to the garrison."

He glanced at Iris who gave him a grateful look. The few hours they had ridden, neither of them had discussed what to tell the others but she knew he had just given her the time she needed to figure out what to say. She didn't want to lie anymore – especially not to Aramis who was watching her carefully.

"It's too bad you couldn't be there," D'Artagnan spoke up, pulling the attention away from Iris and Athos," last night, Aramis and I witnessed something quite wonderful."

"Indeed we did," Aramis joined in, as the last shred of worry he had held for Iris evaporated. Behind them, Porthos was muttering profanities under his breath. "Porthos finally met his match in the art of trickery."

"Did he now?" Athos muttered, feeling quite at ease in that moment. Iris turned to look at Porthos with a mischievous smile.

"I've heard of your tendency to tweak the rules," she admitted to the musketeer who slightly narrowed his eyes. "But I suppose if you do it too often, sooner or later karma will-"

"Not you too!" he exclaimed with a groan. "I had hoped you would be on my side Iris, not his."

"And what do you mean by that?" Aramis asked, a look of mock-hurt on his face.

"I mean, one of you is more than enough," Porthos explained, looking at his friend with the hint of a smile. His eyes showed joy as Aramis dramatically threw a hand over his eyes.

"And here I thought five years of friendship was worth something. How you hurt me, Porthos."

"Oh, listen to yourselves," Iris muttered as the two of them stared each other down, waiting to see who would laugh first. "With all this bickering, one might think the honeymoon is over."

A strangled laugh escaped Athos, which he quickly hid with a cough. Iris bit back her own laugh, and carefully kept her eyes straight ahead. She knew that if she were to look at him now, she might not be able to stop laughing again.

"Didn't I say you would come to appreciate the irony?" she noted, sensing the others watch them with curiosity. They weren't used to see Athos react like this.

"I have a feeling we've missed something as well," Porthos muttered, shaking his head to himself.

Aramis had turned his eyes towards Iris again, and began to feel a smile creep onto his face. If he had known she could bring this side out in his friend, he might have begged her to return much sooner.

* * *

The sun stood high on the sky when they reached Melun. The streets were busy with people who went about their business, but quite a few stopped what they were doing to watch them pass by. Musketeers were rather a rare sight around there. Soon enough they found a place to station their horses, and continued on foot as the streets became too small for all of them to get by.

Though she didn't know the exact location of his home, Iris knew Henri lived in a small quarter by the Seine.

As they walked with the water on one side, and a row of houses on the other, she spotted him. He looked like he had done the last time they had seen each other. He was no rich man, but somehow he always seemed to wear finer clothes than a man of his status normally would. His long dark hair was tied back at his neck, like it always was. Henri Lavelle was indeed a man who preferred finer things, which was visible by how his clothes seemed a bit tight here and there. He used to brush it off by saying he at least would die a happy man.

"And there he is," she pointed him out for them, as he stood some distance away in a deep conversation with a young woman.

"I'm not sure what I had expected," Aramis muttered as Henri turned his head their way and suddenly grew tense, "but this is far from it."

"He does not seem pleased to see us," D'Artagnan noted and turned his eyes towards Iris. Though she had told them good things about the man, he couldn't help but think they were about to be proven wrong.

"I'm sure it's just surprise," she said dismissively, trying to ignore the tense feeling that was coming over them all. "Once we get talking, you'll see-"

A shot was fired, and a second later, Henri sank to his knees. The five of them reacted instantly. As Iris and Aramis moved towards Henri, Athos closely followed by Porthos and D'Artagnan ran in the direction where the shot had been fired.

People were screaming and running around, so Iris and Aramis had to push their way towards Henri. When they came close, Iris saw his hand press against his chest, blood seeping through his fingers. Swallowing hardly, she glanced at Aramis who kneeled next to him.

"Let me help," he said quietly, feeling doubt creep up on him. There was only so much he could do when it came to patching someone up, and in his experience, someone in Henri's condition was as good as gone.

Henri seemed to know this, as he pushed Aramis hand away.

"Don't bother," he wheezed, closing his eyes painfully. "Even if you could do something about it, I wouldn't deserve it."

"Don't be an idiot, Henri," Iris chided him as she sank down on his other side. Reaching out a hand to support him, she glanced around. "We have to get him away from the streets," she muttered, scanning the crowds that had gathered for any dangers. Aramis did the same, and then looked back at Henri. Something told him the shot had been rushed – it was meant to kill, and it would, but it should have been instant.

"My... my house is just down... down to the right," Henri stammered, removing his hand from the wound to point at a small yellow house. Aramis swiftly put a hand around his shoulders and helped him up. As they moved him towards the house, people parted to let them pass. A small trail of blood followed them, colouring the cobblestones red.

* * *

People moved away as the three men came thundering down the street, pistols drawn. At an intersection they stopped and looked around wildly.

"There! The one in the dark hood," Porthos exclaimed, and they all rushed down the right street.

"We need to surround him," Athos muttered, nodding down a side-street to the left that led to a small square. "Otherwise we could do this for the rest of the day."

As he took off down a street to the right, D'Artagnan took the middle and left Porthos to move to the right.

Porthos moved quickly, keeping his eyes open for any sighting of the shooter. As he noticed him disappearing into a crowd, Porthos walked around and came up behind him. Not far away he saw Athos and D'Artagnan move closer as well from different sides. When the shooter spotted them, he quickly turned around and found himself face to face with Porthos.

Before he could do anything, Porthos fist shot out, knocking the man to the ground.

"Efficient," he heard Athos mutter.

"Well, I try," Porthos crouched down and reached out a hand to withdraw the hood to reveal his face. The grin was immediately wiped away.

"What do you know," he sneered.

* * *

They placed Henri in his bed, and Aramis left to find something to dull the pain.

Iris tried to reason with Henri, to let Aramis at least try something, but Henry brushed her away again and again.

"I should have known you would come for me," he muttered, and slid further down the pillows that had been stacked behind him. Iris frowned at him.

"So you do know of the informants who have died?"

"Of course I do," he looked away from her as Aramis appeared with a bottle of what seemed like fine brandy and a glass.

"Quite a collection you've got," Aramis gestured back to where he had come from and handed the bottle to Iris.

As she poured a healthy dose of it, she handed it to Henri and watched him drink. When the glass was empty he let out a satisfied sigh.

"Explain to me then," she began, taking the glass and filling it for him again, "if you knew, why not do something? We've been trying to figure out who's behind it and so far we have nothing."

Henri reached for the glass again, but Iris moved it just out of his reach and watched him expectantly.

"Well I... I was... I am so ashamed of what I did," he admitted and turned his eyes away from her again. Aramis pulled a chair over next to the bed and sat down, watching the dying man with narrowed eyes.

"You must understand..," he whispered pleadingly, turning to Aramis instead. "I didn't know... she seduced me you see."

"No," Iris felt her hand close around her glass. "Don't tell me this is your fault. Don't tell me you did this because... because of..."

When he nodded she huffed and stood up from her place on the bed.

"Iris, I didn't mean to... she was so beautiful."

"I'm sure she was," Aramis muttered darkly, starting to feel angry himself. He didn't take kindly to betrayal. Still, it was nothing compared to what Iris felt. Of course, she had known him personally so it would hit closer to home.

* * *

When they returned to where the shot had been fired, all that was left was a small pool of blood on the cobblestones. Porthos carried the shooter over his shoulder, and he looked around for any signs of the people they had left behind.

"They cant have gone far, that shot seemed pretty severe..." he mumbled. D'Artagnan moved over to a woman who stood nearby.

"Excuse me, the man who was shot here not long ago, where is he now?" he asked, and was pointed towards a yellow house nearby.

The door stood ajar, so they didn't bother knocking as they entered.

"Where do you think they've gone?" D'Artagnan asked as Porthos let the shooter down on the floor. Just then Aramis appeared, closing a door behind him. The sound of Iris voice could be heard, though they couldn't understand the words. He looked at their raised eyebrows, and then shrugged.

"Well, if he wasn't dying already he would certainly wish he was now. I've forgotten just how angry she can get."

"Why would she be angry?" Athos asked, glancing at the door. Her voice rose even higher and then fell again.

"It would seem monsieur Lavelle has, albeit unknowingly, passed valuable information on the identities of the informants," Aramis explained, and leaned against the door. "He says there was a woman who seduced him, and by the time he woke up all his documents on the matter were gone."

"Who was the woman?" D'Artagnan asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I had to leave before he got to that part. She seemed ready to tear him apart, and frankly I'm not in the mood to stop her."

His eyes fell on the man on the ground, and his eyes narrowed as he saw his face.

"Wait, isn't that-"

"The man who stole my money last night, yes," Porthos muttered, glaring at the unconscious man. "It would seem he's been following us all along. Someone really didn't want us to speak to Lavelle."

"Perhaps we should whilst we can," Athos moved towards the door.

Iris was standing with her back against the wall, at the far end of the room. Betrayal radiated from her, so strongly that he almost stopped and walked back out.

"... and these men _depended_ on you. Who can they trust now?" she sneered, looking at Henri, who lay in the bed, clutching a bottle of brandy. He had stopped using the glass, and was now simply drinking straight from the bottle.

"You have every right to be angry," he began, as she snorted and shook her head, "and I do regret my actions. I should have been more careful."

"This woman you speak of," Athos cut in, as the other filed in behind him. The room had begun to feel very small with all of them inside. "Who was she?"

"Oh she... she was beautiful," Henri admitted, closing his eyes as he pictured her in his mind. "Dark hair, and green eyes... she wore fine clothes, which makes sense, a woman like that could only be a woman of high status."

He swallowed hardly again and took another swig from the bottle.

"I think she called herself Lady Clarick, but I didn't put much attention to her name as... well," he looked at them knowingly but shrank back as no one reacted.

"I'm afraid that is all I can pass on..." he ended and glanced at Iris again. "I should have had the courage to inform you or Treville, but-"

"But you didn't. I sent these boys, _boys Henri_ , to you because I trusted you to look out for them, and what did you do? You sold them out for a woman, but it's alright, she was _beautiful_."

The last word came out as a hiss.

"When this is over I might find it in myself to forgive your mistake, but I cannot stand being near you right now."

And with that, Iris walked out of the room without a second glance.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Here comes another one, one of those I couldn't stop. It might be the last one before I have to hand in my project, which is in a few days, but we'll see...**

 **The story moves forward! Next up; The musketeers return to Paris, with a new lead and a man to interrogate. Meanwhile, Treville comes in trouble with the king.**


	14. Chapter 14

_May your dreams come to reality_

 _If all else fails_

 _Give up, we needed the company_

 _Let's drink to your health_

Scotland – The Lumineers

* * *

Aramis slipped away soon after under the pretence of checking on the mysterious shooter, but once he left the room he forgot all thoughts of the man. It was all the same as the man was still unconscious – Porthos really did put some effort into that punch. _That's what you get for beating him at his own game_ , Aramis thought grimly and continued through the house.

He blinked in the sudden light as he stepped outside, and pulled his hat further down over his eyes. The summer was rapidly approaching, and the change in the weather had been noticeable. People rushed by, sending strange looks at the now dried blood on the cobblestones. _Someone should really wash that away_.

He glanced around, but Iris was nowhere in sight. Knowing she would be nearby, as she wouldn't really leave in the middle of a mission, he began walking towards where they had placed their horses.

Had he ever seen her this angry before? Sure, Iris had a temper – one that could prove fiery at times – but it was a rare sight. He had often seen how she kept her emotions locked up, be it anger or sadness or grief... all he ever really saw from her was joy. _Which shouldn't be a problem_ , he scolded himself. _You do it yourself_. It was true. He didn't like to get angry either. It seemed easier to just put on a smile and get on with things.

"Is this what men are like?" she spoke out of the blue, bringing Aramis out of his train of thoughts. He narrowed his eyes and looked around before finally turning his eyes downward.

Iris was sitting on the ground by the water, one leg tucked under herself and the other carelessly thrown over the edge. Her eyes were distant, as they moved away from him and back on the water that flowed beneath her.

"Shall I now expect every man I've ever trusted to let me down?" she continued as he lowered himself to the ground next to her. There was an edge to her voice, something more hurt than angry. His eyes darted to the bracelet on her wrist. She was toying absent-mindedly with the fleur-de-lis charm – never a good sign.

"I wont say your anger isn't justified," he sighed as he took off his hat and closed his eyes. He might as well enjoy the weather while it lasted. "But blaming every man in your life seems like taking it a bit too far. We're not all so bad," he added, giving her a look of mock-hurt.

"I've been fooled before," she said tensely and tightened her hand around the charm. Aramis felt his expression soften as he realised that this might be about someone else entirely than the man who was dying a few houses away.

"I cannot believe I defended him!" Iris exclaimed suddenly, bringing them back on topic. She reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, and for a moment she looked as though she was about to start yelling again. "He somehow always manages to do something incredibly stupid, and I always forgive it."

"You usually only forgive when it's deserved," Aramis noted and put a hand on her shoulder. "It's human to make mistakes."

"People are dead Aramis! How am I supposed to forgive this when it could have been avoided if he had only taken a moment to _think_?"

"Speaking from experience, thinking isn't easy when confronted with a beautiful woman – however," he quickly added as her eyes darkened, "you're right. It could have been avoided, and now they're all targets."

Iris huffed and stood, holding out a hand to bring Aramis up with her.

"I'm gonna find someone who can... deal with Henri, when... well, when he's..."

She looked back at the house, unsure of what to say.

"By now I'm sure the others have everything they can about this mysterious woman. Why don't you come back and -"

"If I go in there again, I might just say something I'll come to regret," Iris admitted, folding her arms over her chest. Aramis frowned.

"Wouldn't you feel better if you get to say goodbye to an old friend? I'd hate for you to wake up one morning, regretting -"

"The sentiment is appreciated Aramis," she cut him off and turned away, "and I will cross that bridge when I reach it. In the meantime, we have a woman to find and a man to question and I would much prefer to return to Paris than spend another moment here."

* * *

Treville held back a groan as Louis continued his animated tale of how he shot a stag the size of a small horse on a hunt not long ago.

"... and I tell you Treville, one perfect shot, can you believe it!"

"Indeed, your majesty." _Never mind that I was there, and had to cut the poor beasts throat to relieve it from it's suffering_ , he thought and took a deep breath.

His mind drifted elsewhere again, to the group he had sent out a day prior. By now they should have reached Melun, and would hopefully be in the middle of questioning Henri Lavelle. As he depended on them having a long talk with him, he expected them back in the morning.

They were desperately in need of something to go on. Hopefully a breath of fresh air and some time away from the garrison would do them all good.

He looked up as the cardinal entered the room, and came over to bow before the king.

"My apologies for my lateness, sire, I was detained," he said as he rose and folded his hands before him. His eyes landed briefly on Treville and then back on the king.

"At least your timing is perfect cardinal – I was just nearing the end of my story."

 _Oh thank god._

"I have just received news from Savoy," Richelieu carefully began, watching the smile fade away from the kings face.

Treville lowered his eyes to the ground. There mere word "Savoy" still sent chills down his spine – he knew of course that he would have to face it all again sooner or later, but knowing didn't make it any easier. "Within three weeks time, the duke will arrive in Paris, accompanied by your sister and your nephew."

"And he expects us to just be ready whenever he decided to show up?" Louis whined and slammed his fist onto the armrest of chair he sat in. Treville glanced at Richelieu.

"How long does the duke plan to stay?" Treville asked calmly.

"If it's up to me, he will sign the treaty and then be on his way," the cardinal answered, with a dismissive wave of his hand. Louis let out a snort.

"He's likely to take advantage of our hospitality," he groaned to himself, "how my sister puts up with him is beyond me."

"I must however insist that we keep this important visit to ourselves," Richelieu continued, now turning to Treville. "For the time being of course. I see no reason to attract any... unwanted attention."

Though Treville hated being ordered around like this by the cardinal, he had to agree. Savoy left a bad taste in the mouths of any musketeers, and he couldn't afford any distractions between his men, and Iris, these days.

He gave a nod of agreement.

"And I was having such a fine day," Louis sulked and began to inspect his nails. "You really must work on your timing with such news, cardinal."

"Such things cannot wait, your majesty," Treville said, and straightened the blue cape that lay over his shoulder.

"We must hope you've caught your killer by the time the duke arrives."

Treville tensed and closed his eyes.

"Killer? What killer?" Louis narrowed his eyes and turned in his seat to face the captain. Treville cleared his throat and faced the king.

"Someone is targeting my informants," Treville began, very aware of the stare he got from the cardinal. He seemed to be enjoying this far too much. "I have my best people on the case as we speak."

"Hopefully, your musketeers will find the one responsible before more innocent men loose their lives."

Anyone who didn't know the cardinal might believe the look of worry on his face, but Treville knew better. What did he care for the lives of some poor men?

"I cannot have something like this, Treville!" Louis exclaimed. "Why has this killer not been found yet?"

"It's a bit complicated, your majesty," Treville admitted, preparing himself for the worst. A look of disbelief crossed the kings face as he rose from his chair.

"So make it uncomplicated! I have enough to worry about, without having to wonder whether or not my musketeers are capable of doing their duty. You _will_ find the person behind this before the duke arrives!"

"I will make it my highest priority, your majesty," Treville bowed as Louis passed him. When he straightened he saw a slight smirk form on Richelieu's face.

 _You better bring some good news_ , he thought of the group in Melun again and walked towards the door _, for all of our sakes._

* * *

When they finally returned to the garrison, the clock had not yet struck midnight.

In Melun, they had decided to ride on through the day, so they could return to Paris and begin their questioning the following day.

"Explain to me again," Porthos yawned as he slid off his horse and reached up to pull the shooter to the ground. The man, Renaud as he had called himself during his and Porthos card game, had regained consciousness as they left Melun, but had yet to utter a single word. His grey eyes now roamed over the silent garrison. "Why did we take the long way back?"

"Were home now, does it matter all that much?" Iris said quietly, and gave a smile to the stable boys who had come running at the sound of their arrival. She knew they every now and then sneaked a bottle of wine into the stables, and would share it between them as the musketeers went off to rest.

"Suppose not," Porthos muttered, oblivious to the glance Iris and Athos exchanged behind his back. As discreetly as possible, Athos had led them in a different direction on their return to Paris – one that led them around Demont's lands rather than through them. By the time the others had noticed, night had already fallen and they were all too tired to start a discussion about it.

"What do we do about him?" Aramis nodded towards Renaud, who was now staring darkly at them all.

"We'll put him in detention," Athos said after a moment, running a hand over his eyes. "Till we can question him."

"Should we wake the captain?" D'Artagnan asked hesitantly, sending a longing look towards the gates as Porthos and Athos brought Renaud through an opening in the corner of the courtyard.

"I will leave him a note with the circumstances of our return," Iris stretched her arms over her head and felt her joints pop. "There is no reason to wake him now. We'll be better suited for explanations tomorrow."

* * *

There was only one room at the garrison set aside for detaining and/or questioning. The room itself was nothing special; a barred window and a heavy wooden door. In the middle of the room stood a chair, with chains ready to restrain whomever was sitting. Though they didn't believe in torturing in the garrison, it certainly proved useful to have the chair at the ready. In the corner was a thin mattress on the floor, with a ragged blanket lying on top.

"You take the key, as per usual?" Porthos raised an eyebrow towards Athos as he shoved Renaud towards the sorry excuse for a bed.

"Just make sure he stays here," Athos muttered before leaving the room. When he returned later, Renaud was sitting with his back against the wall with a thin but strong chain secured at his wrist. Porthos was no where to be seen.

"Enjoy our hospitality while it lasts," he said as he placed a carafe of water by the end of the bed. "You can be sure that ends tomorrow."

Bringing the lantern with him, Athos reached for the key that hung on the back of the door. For this particular room, there was only one key – a precaution, after an incident a few years ago. The prisoner had yelled for help, pretended that he was unfairly detained and had somehow persuaded a musketeer to release him. It had been a big mess, so now the bearer of the key would hold responsibility.

"Before you lock up," Renaud's voice sounded hoarse after staying quiet for so long, "send in the woman."

Athos tensed and turned around to stare at the man on the ground.

"What?"

"You said enjoy the hospitality," Renaud spread out his arms towards the room. "I don't see anything enjoyable in here, so perhaps she can... brighten up the space."

Renaud's face lit up as anger filled Athos.

"Or perhaps simply warm the bed," he added, giving Athos a knowing look.

Athos had barely taken one step forward when Iris appeared before him. She reached out a hand and placed it on his chest, gently pushing him back.

"Ignore him," she said calmly, seeming more awake than she had been a moment ago. There was a chuckle from behind them, and she felt Athos tense again.

"Leave him, love. Why don't you keep me company instead."

"Not if you were the last man on this earth," she looked over her shoulder, and gave Athos another push towards the door. When they reached the hall, she quickly closed the door, and snatched the key from his hands.

"He cannot speak of you like that," she glanced at him after he spoke, and sighed before walking back towards the courtyard.

"Chivalrous as it is, you beating him up wont solve anything," she muttered as they re-entered the cool night air. When she turned around to look at him, he could see the tiredness return to her face. "After dealing with men like that for years, I've learned one thing; fighting it wont stop it."

"It's not right," he reached for the key, but Iris took a step back and placed it in her pocket.

"You're tired, and seemingly not thinking straight, so I will hold on to this. Go home Athos."

When he didn't move, she gave him an assuring smile.

"Honesty, I'm fine. Go home husband, lover, friend and colleague."

The effect was immediate, and she couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face.

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?" he asked, feeling his anger fade away.

"Absolutely not," she said and moved towards the door that lead to the rooms. "Goodnight."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **I finished this hours ago, and when I began editing, I had this sudden urge to change the ending. Now it's the middle of the night, and I have no regrets!**

 **Next up; questioning begins, Athos and Iris have a friendly disagreement that leads to a demonstration of skills and Theo proves to have horrible timing.**


	15. Chapter 15

_Like a thief you came to steal my heart_

 _I'll surrender now, because you broke my guard_

 _Such a pretty face, it warms my soul_

 _And your sweet blue eyes, they shine like gold_

Found You – Ross Copperman

* * *

It was with heavy eyes and slow movements, that Treville searched his pockets for the keys to his office.

Sleep had eluded him, and instead he had sent the night trying to ignore the memories of Savoy flashing through his mind. Yesterdays news of the impending arrival of the duke and his family had awoken something in the captain – something he would sooner forget than have to relive.

The key was shoved into the lock, a bit more aggressively than necessary. It was going to be one of those days.

The sight that met him confirmed that thought. His desk was littered with plans and lists, documents that needed to be read through and signed and an unfinished list of guard duties he had been working on the previous night. With a sign he went to his chair and sat down, eyeing the work that would serve as a distraction from his thoughts for the next few hours – till the group of five returned with news, at least.

He spent an hour at least on finishing assigning shifts for the musketeers at the palace. Outside, he could hear the sound of the garrison waking up, and the scent of food began drifting up to his office. Treville put his pen down and leaned back in his chair. Perhaps he could persuade Serge to make a pot of extra strong coffee.

The cook was always so sparse with the stuff – Treville might command the soldiers in the garrison, but when it came to anything regarding the kitchen Serge was in charge.

The sound of laughter reached his ears, and Treville froze in his seat. It was unmistakable. After years of getting acquainted with the sound, he would recognise Porthos laughter anywhere.

 _Impossible. If they were back, they would have reported here first thing_ , he thought and rose from his chair. He would have to check to be sure. Travelling all night or not, they should all know better than to keep the matter waiting like this.

When he reached the door, the sound of crackling paper made him stop again, and the captain looked down to see a sliver of paper stick out from beneath his boot. Stooping down, he picked up a piece of neatly folded paper and narrowed his eyes. Was he really so tired that he hadn't seen the note before now?

As he smoothed the paper, he quickly recognised the writing that belonged to Iris. Their correspondence over the years had made it as familiar to him as his own was. As he read the words, his eyes grew more and more alert and when he reached the end all traces of exhaustion had been wiped away from him.

"... and _that_ is why I spent half a day hiding in a cupboard," Aramis finished his tale, raising his voice to make sure he was heard over the sound of Porthos laughter. The man was holding a hand to his side, and despite having heard the story several times before, he still found it as enjoyable as he did the first time.

D'Artagnan was slowly shaking his head, a look of wonder on his face.

"And how did you escape from that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Porthos wiped away a tear that had formed during the laughing and leaned closer to the young apprentice to answer before Aramis could.

"He didn't. The poor woman arrived at the garrison the moment her husband left and begged us to come and help him out – you see, Aramis was stuck."

"You make it sound worse that it really was," Aramis muttered and rubbed his neck at the memory. Every inch of his body had been aching for days after this particular adventure.

"It sounds exactly as it was," Athos said indifferently, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. Though he preferred to stay out of the trouble Aramis caused when in the company of a woman, this had been the exception to the rule. It almost didn't matter that the three of them had to run like all hell to escape yet _another_ angry husband – seeing Aramis stuck inside an all too small cupboard had been worth it. "But does he ever learn? No. Not a day later, he was with her again."

"She was quite something...," Aramis got a dreamy look in his eyes and Athos scoffed.

"Who was?"

They looked up as Iris joined them at the table they were sitting at. She slid down on the bench next to D'Artagnan and filled a glass of water.

"Merely an acquaintance of mine from some time ago... there's no need to let it fill your innocent mind," Aramis quickly said, as though that would end the conversation.

"Come off it, Aramis," Porthos raised an eyebrow and turned expectantly to Iris. "She's known you longer than any of us. She must have been involved in your affairs at some point."

"Nothing comes to mind,2 Aramis said absent-mindedly, suddenly very interested in a particularly deep cut in the wood of the table.

"Oh, what was her name...," Iris paused and squinted as though trying very hard to remember something. "Ah, yes! Mademoiselle Blanchett. After one night in your company, she was convinced that the two of you were destined to be married. Did you not beg me to pretend to be your wife to get her to leave?"

A roaring laughter erupted from Porthos again, and this time D'Artagnan joined in. Aramis looked on in defeat as Iris raised her glass as though toasting him.

"What haven't I done for you, my dear brother? Certainly, you should know better than to call me innocent."

Aramis was about to reply when his eyes sought upwards and his shoulders fell. Silence fell over the table as Treville turned onto the stairs, a dark cloak in one hand and a creased piece of paper in another.

"It would seem you've all had _quite_ the journey," he said as he came to a stop by the end of the table. "Another man dead, a stranger in detention and a mystical woman? And to top it all off, I can announce that the king is now aware of our investigation and he's eager to have the matter resolved."

Though his voice was calm, they all knew their captain was barely keeping it together. When he gestured for them to follow him to his office, they all stood and moved towards the stairs. The cheerful atmosphere from before was gone.

"Not you," Treville held out a hand to stop Iris. "Your expertise is needed elsewhere."

She took a step back and glanced at the four men who had halted on the stairs.

"With Lavelle's untimely death, I'm unsure of where we stand with the informants. As you're most familiar with them, I need you to seek out their leader and find out what happens next."

"Is that wise captain?" Athos spoke up, a frown forming on his face. "Considering what happened last time we set foot in those parts-"

"Iris will have the advantage of daylight, and she is better prepared to be on her guard," Treville cut him off without turning to look at him. He handed over the cloak and leaned closer to speak quietly to her. "However, I see no reason to tell the entire world of this. Head down, and come straight back."

"Yes sir," she gave him a nod and accepted the cloak. As Treville walked past the men to get to his office, Iris reached into her pocket and pulled out a key. "I'd better return this," she muttered as she handed it back to Athos and threw the cloak over her shoulders. Though it wasn't a cold morning, she knew it would serve to keep her identity somewhat hidden.

"As for you all," Treville said, now standing at the landing above them as they watched her leave through the gates, "we have more than enough to discuss."

* * *

For years, Iris had never thought twice about going anywhere unaccompanied. In fact, she had preferred it that way. No one to worry about but herself, no one to discuss what to do or where to go. No one but herself.

And yet, as she walked towards the yellow house that looked ready to collapse at the slightest wind, she found herself missing the company she had grown accustomed to since returning to Paris. One way or another, there had been someone by her side at all times over the past weeks.

 _How strange_ , she mused as she passed the house she and Athos had used to keep watch, _that I used to depend on no one and now I find myself wanting someone to have my back_.

Taking a deep breath, she shook off the feeling and prepared herself. There was no time to dwell on such things – she had work to do.

When she came to the door of the building, Iris took a moment to consider how to go about things. Should she knock? Would there be anyone to answer? The door looked loose on it's hinges, as though it might fall off if she touched it. _If this is the outside, I can barely stand to think of what it must be like on the inside_ , she thought with a shudder and lightly knocked on the door.

It opened instantly, revealing a man, _no this was no man – a boy_ , who stared at her with narrowed eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked, sounding more brave than he looked. As she looked him over, she guessed he could be no more than thirteen years old... much too young for a life like this. Iris felt her professional mask slip for a moment as their eyes met.

"I come on behalf of captain Treville," she spoke quietly, even though no-one was around to hear her. "I need to speak to your leader – urgently."

A look of suspicion fell over his face and he narrowed his eyes even further. For a second she thought he would slam the door in her face when another person appeared over his shoulder.

"That will do, Gabriel," he said, putting a hand on the boys shoulder. "I will take it from here."

Gabriel's shoulders fell as he stepped away, but he kept looking suspiciously at Iris as the newly arrived man urged her to come inside. There was something recognisable about him, and she felt as though the answer was right on the tip of her tongue. After closing the door, he turned back to her and gave her a small smile.

"It's hardly appropriate to leave a woman standing outside," he scolded Gabriel in a friendly manner, and ruffled the boys hair. "Much less when mademoiselle Chevalier is more than welcome in this house."

"You know me?" she asked surprised, as she let the hood of the cloak fall. Why couldn't she remember where she had seen him before...

"Your name is spoken with kindness by many who passes through this house," he explained and gestured for her to follow. Young Gabriel stayed nearby, still watching her somewhat suspiciously. "It's understandable if you do not remember me – we briefly met about a year ago when I came to Henri's lodgings to collect funds for the men."

"Of course," she said as realisation hit her. It had been brief, but now she remembered. During her time with Henri, she had seen plenty of the informants who had appeared out of the blue and then taken off again.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he held out a hand as they walked through a deserted hall, "Lucas, head of the informants. Henri's second, if you will. I believe you came to speak to me?"

"I did, yes," Iris shook his hand and removed the cloak around her shoulders. "Preferably in private, as my visit is of a grave matter."

"I suspected as much," a shadow slid over Lucas face as he opened the door at the end of the hall. Iris swallowed hardly as they stepped inside, and hoped her face didn't betray her thoughts.

Once upon a time, this house had been beautiful. The room they stepped in had once been grand, but years of neglect had left it broken and simply out of place. The tapestry was peeling off the walls, and the ceiling seemed to be sagging in several places. The stone floor had once held elegant markings, but now showed nothing but was now scratched and worn out.

Around the walls, makeshift beds stood lined up. During the summer, it might be possible to keep warm but she didn't dare imagine what it must be like during the winter.

It was mostly deserted, as the informants had already left to gather what coins they could, but she could count about a dozen around the room. A few lingered in bed, and some sat around eating or talking quietly. She recognised a few of them, one of which was the man who had come to the garrison a few days prior. When he saw her, he quickly turned his eyes down. The talking somewhat ceased as everyone turned to stare at her – she had a feeling it wasn't normal for women to stand in their midst like this, much less someone bearing the uniform of a musketeer.

"You sure I'm welcome here?" she asked, hoping it would ease some of the tension that had fallen on the room. Lucas shrugged and nodded towards an open door a few feet away.

"We're not so used to visitors. Now, let's talk."

* * *

When she finally left Lucas and the rest of the informants, Iris felt relief. Though she hadn't let it show, the intense stare from the young Gabriel had bothered her. It was almost as though he was blaming her for all the problems in the world – which was exactly the feeling she had after talking to Lucas.

As she neared the gates, her thoughts were distracted by the sound of metal on metal. A familiar and welcome sound that made her smile. As she walked into the courtyard, her smile widened as her eyes fell on the two men sparring.

Other than Athos and D'Artagnan, the courtyard was deserted. She walked slowly towards the staircase, taking her time to watch their style. Both of them were completely focused, not paying any attention to her as she stepped onto the first step and leaned over the railing as D'Artagnan blocked a blow to his legs. She had heard the others praise the young man's style – though there was room for improvement he held his own against Athos who was supposedly "the best swordsman in the regiment". At least, that was what Aramis had told her. And seeing him now, she could see why. Every movement seemed so natural to him, as though he had been holding the rapier in his hand since birth.

From the look of them, they seemed to have been at it for a while. D'Artagnan showed signs of having been on the ground a few times, and he now seemed to grow distracted. For the smallest second, his eyes flickered and fell on her and Iris couldn't help shaking her head at the mistake.

"Eyes front, soldier," she called, and a moment later D'Artagnan was on the ground, sending a nasty look towards Athos. Meanwhile, Athos had lowered his rapier and turned to look at her.

"This looks very productive," she continued and nodded towards D'Artagnan who was pushing himself into a standing position. As he brushed a hand over his breeches, he narrowed his eyes.

"It would be if he would stop shoving me to the ground."

"I'll stop when you begin to pay attention," Athos countered without taking his eyes off Iris. "A distraction like that could be the death of you."

Iris huffed and began ascending the steps.

"Am I to take that as a compliment or an insult?" she said and gave him a quizzical look before stepping onto the landing and disappearing the the hall that led to Treville's office.

D'Artagnan could swear he saw the tiniest hint of a smile on his mentors face. Before he could stop himself, D'Artagnan walked over and placed a hand on Athos shoulder.

" _Was_ that a compliment or an insult?" he asked with a smirk. As quickly as the smile had appeared, it went away again, and a familiar expression of indifference returned.

"How about we try this again?" Athos muttered to change the subject and placed a hand on the hilt of his rapier.

* * *

Treville looked up as the door to his office opened, and Iris peered inside.

"Do you have a moment, captain?" she asked calmly, as though trying to determine what mood he was in. This morning he had been tired, annoyed and perhaps a bit angry - not so much at the musketeers, but in general. Nothing worked out the way he wanted it to at the moment, and he had let that out on the four men after they had filled him in on the details of their trip to Melun. It was meaningless of course - after all, they were trying their hardest to be on top of everything.

"I do," he said and leaned back in his chair. After closing the door behind her, she walked over to stand before the desk that now looked orderly. The documents that had been scattered there before was now lying in neat stacks.

"Shall I tell you the long or the short version of what I've learned?"

Iris glanced at him as she took the cloak off and folded it over the back of a chair. Treville sighed and folded his hands in his lap.

"The short version will suffice."

"Well," she began, and took a deep breath before launching into a short description of her talk with Lucas. "Things are tense with the informants. They fear we cannot protect them, so they're growing weary of doing any work for us. Few are even speaking of leaving Paris behind, and I..." she turned her eyes to the floor, "... to be honest, I can hardly blame them for wanting to get away."

"And what complications will Henri's death have?" Treville asked quietly, running a hand over his chin. His eyes had grown distant as her words repeated in his head.

"If they no longer receive the funds provided by Henri, I fear that will be it for the informants. As it is now, they're already unsure of whether they can stay at their current lodgings, but if they have no money to provide food... Lucas, their leader, is calling them all together to present them with the facts of their situation. We'll have to wait and see what happens next."

"They fear we cannot protect them..." Treville repeated her words to himself and sighed. The one thing they were supposed to do, and they weren't trusted enough to do it. "Keep in contact with this leader, will you? If this is the end of our collaboration, we might need to figure out another system to receive and bring out information."

"And in the meantime?"

"I suppose we wait," he admitted and picked up his pen again to continue the work he had been doing when she entered. "As we speak, Aramis and Porthos are interrogating Renaud, so you can wait with Athos and D'Artagnan."

"Is it just the two of them?" she asked, frowning. She had been wondering what Athos and D'Artagnan had been doing, when she had expected all four of them to be in with Renaud.

"Aramis and Porthos do things in their own way. They have a routine," Treville said dismissively, as though he was explaining why the sky way blue. "I trust you'll hear from them soon, they've been in there since you left."

* * *

The courtyard was quiet when Iris closed the door leading to Treville's office. The missing sounds of sword-clashing told her the sparring match was over, and sure enough, when she looked over the railing the courtyard was almost deserted. Sitting at the end of their preferred table, Athos had relieved himself of his doublet and weapons. His eyes were closed to the world, seemingly lost in thought.

At the sound of her approach, he looked up and raised an eyebrow in question.

"I take it that didn't go so well," he said it as more of a statement than a question, and Iris exhaled deeply as a way of answering.

"Does it ever?" She slid into a seat on his left and leaned forward to rest her head on the surface of the table. "He seems a bit off today, doesn't he?"

"With the king and the cardinal breathing down his neck, you can hardly blame him," Athos muttered. "Even without having to carry the blame for our lack of progress, I wouldn't be surprised to find that he has enough to worry about."

"I'm sure you're right," Iris raised her head and folded her arms underneath to soften the roughness of the wood.

Athos, who had been watching the comings and goings outside the garrison gates, let his eyes drift to where she rested, and the quickly away again. After several beats of his heart, he did it again, this time without looking away.

If he didn't know any better, he might have guessed she could be sleeping. Her hair fell like a curtain over her face, hiding her features. As he watched, a gentle wind swept through the courtyard, playing with a few strands before carrying on. The golden locks would be soft, that much he knew. Much like her skin, really. Soft, with a faint floral scent he couldn't quite put his finger on. He had noticed all of this the other night at the inn, and much to his displeasure it had stuck with him.

If he moved his hand a few inches he would be touching it. He could gently tuck it behind her ear, definitely an innocent gesture. Just a few inches...

"I see you've scared D'Artagnan off," she muttered, brushing the hair away to reveal the curiosity in her eyes. Athos curled his hand into a fist and dragged it towards himself, the chance passed.

"He decided that he needed a break," Athos cleared his throat, mentally scolding himself for what he had almost done. Turning his gaze back to the gates, he continued, "It would seem his pride can only take hitting the ground so many times."

"Perhaps you've worked him too hard."

"In my experience, there is no better way to learn. All it takes is a second, and your life can very well be changed for the worse."

"I see you and Aramis share the same teaching methods," Iris said after a while. "He always insisted on keeping me on my toes, not that I minded. It was wonderful to be challenged like that - to be taken seriously. Made me what I am today," she added thoughtfully.

"D'Artagnan fights well, but he lacks restraint," Athos mused quietly. Looking down again, he met her gaze. "I understand you were a bit like that yourself."

"Oh," she raised an eyebrow, "so you've been talking about me?"

Athos shrugged, and muttered something about being curious. Iris grinned and straightened in her seat.

"I suppose I _was_ a bit eager in the beginning. I pushed myself too hard, believing I could handle what was thrown my way." Shaking her head to herself, she sighed. "My first mission after being commissioned was a mess. Long story short, I overestimated my abilities and all hell broke loose - the scar on my shoulder is proof of that. Thank god for Aramis and -"

She stopped suddenly, blinked and sighed again. "Anyhow, I'm still alive so I must be doing something right."

Athos had noticed the sudden halt in her story, but decided to let it pass.

"I would like to see it someday," he said, folding his hands on the table before him. "The way you fight, I mean."

"I've been told it's idiotic to start a fight you cannot win," even as she said it, there was a flicker of interest in her eyes. "And yet -" she leaned closer to him and lowered her voice, "- it could work in my favour that you have yet to see me in action."

"If you're as good as Aramis says -" he couldn't resist leaning closer as well, "- I'm sure I'll be in for quite a show."

"I have to warn you though," she gave him a mischievous smile. "I fight dirty. Kicking," Athos felt a light tap on his foot as her boot touched his, " _being distracting._.. anything goes."

"I will try not to hold back," the words sounded nonchalant in his ears, but he couldn't be certain. His attention was at her, and the distance between them that seemed to grow smaller by the second.

"I wouldn't want it any other way," she whispered after a second, just loud enough for him to hear.

"This is very sweet, but," a third voice cut in, "are we still talking about fighting?"

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Oh dear. Oh dear. You guys. It's been so long!**

 **And I'm back. I think. Since my exams (I scored the equivalent of a C) my head has been all over the place. I've had this chapter opened every day yet nothing has happened. But now I think I've found myself. If not, at least this is a long one..!**

 **Thanks to everyone who have reviewed and to the new people who has clicked favourite/follow. Means a lot.**

 **Next up; Iris deals with Theo, who brings somewhat disappointing news, another approach is being taken in Renaud's interrogation and the cardinal throws a tantrum.**

 **[UPDATE; So I had this rewritten more on how and why in next chapter... which I damn well hope will be soon.]**


	16. Chapter 16

_I know which place I'm from_

 _I know my home_

 _When I'm in doubt and struggling_

 _That's where I go_

 _An old friend can give advice_

 _When new friends only know half a story_

 _That's why I always keep them tight_

 _And why I'm okay_

Mama Said – Lukas Graham

* * *

"I'm starting to loose my patience," Porthos growled, the fingers of his right hand flexing dangerously.

Aramis ventured a glance over his shoulder to where Renaud sat, a bruise still blossoming on his jaw.

"I thought you lost your patience an hour ago, when you _accidentally_ fell on his face with your fist," he said, bringing his gaze back to his friend. Porthos huffed, and gave a small shrug.

"He deserved it."

 _If you hadn't done it, I certainly would have_ , Aramis thought and took a deep breath. Like Porthos, his patience was also worn thing, and he knew that if they didn't get a change of scenery soon, things would turn ugly.

"We might be going about this all wrong," he began slowly. What he was about to say wouldn't please Porthos, and to be honest, he didn't like it himself. "If we just find Iris -"

As expected, Porthos eyes flashed darkly, and his fist hammered into the cold stonewall they leaned against.

"Absolutely NOT!"

"Then what do you want us to do?" Aramis hissed, throwing his arms out. "This is a waste of time! Perhaps she can make him -"

"I will NOT surrender to the wishes of some lowly murderous bast-"

"You know," Renaud interrupted, voice pleasant as if he was commenting on a new pair of shoes, "this is a fairly small room. I _can_ hear _everything_ you say."

Seemingly oblivious to the two sets of murderous stares going his way, he sighed dramatically and slumped back in the chair he was tied to. "But it's so thoughtful of you to lower your voices to spare my feelings."

"I'll give you feelings..." Aramis grasped the back of Porthos' doublet and pulled him towards the door.

"Come back soon," they heard Renaud laugh, as the heavy door swung closed behind them. Aramis shot a look at Porthos and moved back towards the courtyard, longing to breathe in some fresh air.

"He's confident, I'll give him that," he mumbled, rolling his shoulders. The hours spent in the company of Renaud had left him more tense than he cared to admit.

"He wont be when we hand him over," Porthos stepped through the opening at the end of the hall, and blinked a few times to adjust his eyes to the sudden light. "If nothing else can silence him, the noose certainly will." Aramis hummed in agreement.

Every hope of putting the tension he felt behind him evaporated when he joined Porthos outside. Sitting at the end of the table near the staircase, they found Athos, staring through the front gates. Seeing the vacant look in his eyes, and the way his body was perfectly still, Aramis assumed his attention was directed elsewhere, and so he let his eyes go to the only other people in the courtyard.

Near the stables, he found Iris standing closely together with a stranger, speaking in hushed tones. At first glance, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, but looking closer, Aramis saw how she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Had the situation not seemed off, he might have laughed and compared her to a hunters prey, staring down the barrel of a pistol.

Her eyes flickered to meet his, and he could see the unease in her eyes, before she a moment later caught hold of the strangers elbow and dragged him towards the sleeping quarters, and away from any prying eyes.

"I think we've missed something here," Porthos muttered quietly, nodding first towards Athos, the the door where Iris and the stranger had disappeared through. Sharing a curious glance, they moved towards the table, Renaud forgotten for the moment.

"Who was that?" Aramis asked, not wasting any time as he swooped into the seat on Athos left side.

"And what did he want?" Porthos added, taking the one on the right.

"He came seeking a private word with her," he said disinterestedly, though there was a slight edge to his voice. "I didn't catch a name."

"A private word, you say," Porthos repeated, a smile creeping up on his face.

"Don't start," Aramis warned, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Just admit that you're wrong when it comes to her," he countered, with a laugh. "I'm telling you, sooner or later this was bound to happen."

"Clearly we didn't witness the same thing," Aramis pointed towards the spot they had seen Iris and the stranger stand. "I've hardly ever seen her look _that_ uncomfortable! Athos, am I not right?"

Letting his eyes flicker towards the sleeping quarters as well, Athos turned his eyes back on the gate and said nothing.

* * *

"They have WHAT?" Richelieu yelled, rising from his chair. "Say that again!"

Milady sighed from her spot near the window and closed her eyes for a second. She had expected a reaction like this.

"The musketeers have the assassin Renaud in their custody," she repeated, lifting her hand to look over her nails. It wasn't that hard to understand, was it? Meanwhile, the cardinal moved around his desk and advanced slowly on her.

"You assured me that your man had this covered," he hissed. His hands were working themselves into tight fists as his sides. "You told me these people were _professionals_!"

"You almost sound as though I have disappointed you," she pointed out, arching an eyebrow. She knew better than to challenge him when he was in this mood, but seeing him like this was almost comical – he didn't even know the best part yet.

"When it comes to you, I'm always disappointed," Richelieu turned around sharply, his cape billowing around him as he walked back to his chair. Milady felt a growl build in her throat, but held it back. Now would not be a good time to get into that.

"Thierry and his men are professionals," she began pacing slowly, needing to move. The sooner they would be done with this, the sooner she could get away. When the young informant had found her earlier, she had come straight to the cardinals office to pass the news. She had explained how the informant had overheard a conversation between his leader and the female musketeer, and had run off to find her at the first chance he got. "Renaud was chosen especially for this, because I knew he could get this done... and more still."

" _Professionals_ ," he rolled his eyes and sank into his chair, ignoring the last words she had spoken. "Next thing you'll tell me that he planned on them to catch him." When she didn't answer, his eyes narrowed. She settled down on the edge of his desk, and produced a one-sided smile.

" _This is not a game_!"

"Renaud will not let anything slip of his connection to us, if that's what worries you. He's too loyal to his companions." _Not unlike the loyalty between musketeers_ ," she added to herself. She had assured him of the loyalty of Thierry and his men plenty of times. The cardinal had been sceptical when she had brought them to him – there was always a risk with mercenaries.

Still, all she had to do to convince Thierry was to mention the musketeers. He had been on board immediately, eager at the thought of bringing the musketeers regiment to its knees. She never found out where his burning hatred to them came from, and honestly she didn't care.

"He has a certain... skill."

"Skill?" Richelieu was still watching her with narrowed eyes, but there was now a spark of interest. Her upper lip curled at the effect her words had.

"He will study them – watching, listening, seeking out their weaknesses. When he's found what he need, he will choose one to target," Milady surely knew who _she_ wanted him to target, "and then he'll slowly destroy them from within."

Richelieu had grown thoughtful, as he turned over this new piece of information. His attacks on the musketeers had been external so far, but having someone go after them individually was a pleasant change of pace.

"They will have to pass him on to the magistrate soon enough anyhow," she continued after a moment, "so we have nothing to fear. You can do your thing and have him released in no time."

"They'll have witnessed his crime," he mused, placing his fingertips against each other as he leaned back in his chair. She recognised the look in his eyes – he was shifting his attentions elsewhere, and would soon continue with the next thing on the days agenda. "It will seem suspicious if he goes unpunished."

Milady pursed her lips.

"Thierry wont be pleased. Renaud is one of his best men – he cant be replaced."

" _Everyone_ is replaceable," he said, making sure she understood the hint. "It's a necessary evil," he waved his hand in the air, a sign that he wanted her to leave. "If he wanted to live, he shouldn't have gotten caught."

"I wonder," he added as she moved towards the side-door. "Is our young informant still unquestioningly devoted to our cause?"

"You should have better faith in my skills of persuasion," she called, one hand on the doorknob. "If I suspect that he has strayed even an inch in their direction, he will die on the spot."

"Good. I cant afford loose ends," Richelieu reached for a letter he had discarded when she arrived, and continued reading as if she had never been there.

* * *

"So this is where you live..." Theo said, nodding his head as he looked around the room she had led him to. His eyes lingered on an assortment of knives on the table, but decided against asking about it. "It's... nice."

Muttering a thank you, she walked over to stand next to the window. Watching, but not really seeing, how the musketeers below her on the grassy field began moving towards the inner part of the garrison, leaving their work behind. Was it already time for lunch?

"I'm really... very, _very_ , sorry for before. My arrival was a disturbance -"

"You didn't disturb anything," she cut him off, leaning forward so her head rested on the glass. It was cooler than she had expected, but she didn't mind. She wanted to feel something, other than the numbness that had descended over her since Theo had spoken in the courtyard.

"I think I did," she didn't have to turn around to know the smirk on his face. She would ask him to stop, had her throat not felt so dry.

"We were discussing technique..."

"I may not be a soldier, Iris, but even I know the difference between _discussing technique_ and _flirting_."

Squeezing her eyes shut, she groaned inaudibly.

"You must be imagining things. He and I work together -" had Athos been flirting? Had she? "- it would be inappropriate." _Lie. You don't believe that..._ or did she? She had honestly never given it much thought...

"It's none of my business, of course," he quickly added. "This is just a side of you I've never seen before. It suits you."

Was she _blushing_? _Stop this, stop it NOW_!

"Surely you didn't come to discuss my love-life, Theo. I remember specifically to have asked that you didn't come here," she pointed out, turning to face him. He was there for a reason, and surely one that couldn't mean good news. She wouldn't think of... no, she wouldn't think of what had transpired in the courtyard.

The grin on his face faded, and he cleared his voice.

"I know you did," he sat down at the edge of her desk and lifted his feet to rest on the chair that stood next to it. "In fact, I would have left a message for you, but seeing as you were already here..."

He grew quiet for a moment, took a deep breath, and then turned to her. Any trace of mischief had disappeared.

"I went to Demont."

Iris felt a new kind of unease settle over her. She should have expected this.

"Already?" she asked quietly. In the rush of the past few days, she had all but forgotten the favour she had asked of him.

"It seemed to weigh on you," he gave her a sympathetic smile, watching as she slid down to sit on her bed. "I had some time, and thought it best to get it sorted right away."

"And?" she asked, holding her breath. A small part of her didn't want to know. If her suspicions were _true_...

"I met up with one of the kitchen boys, Gustave – bright young man, arrived some time after you disappeared – and asked whether he's heard -"

"You just walked in there?" her eyes opened, surprised that he had gone about this so obviously.

"Of course not! Give me some credit Iris," he nervously laced his fingers behind his back. "I took you to the woods and taught you to use a bow and arrow, _for two years_! I can be inconspicuous when I want to."

Rolling her eyes, she gestured for him to continue.

"According to Gustave, Andre has been travelling to Paris frequently," he paused as Iris visibly paled, "but not for the reasons you think. Word is that there is trouble between father and son – Demont senior is growing impatient with Andre, demanding that he find a wife and produce the next generation of their name. Andre, however, seems to have no interest in that department. He comes to Paris to be with his mistress, which has his father enraged. Gustave told me how the servants overhears their discussions, often about a _her_."

Iris listened, feeling a strange sort of emptiness spreading throughout her. Andre was in Paris, but to be with his mistress. She had been wrong.

"But maybe he's wrong," she argued, her mind creating new solutions. "Maybe it's just a cover -"

"Iris," Theo slid from the desk and sat down next to her. "I trust that Gustave have told me the truth. Why are you so certain that Demont is after you? It's been five years... don't you think he has bigger problems than a housemaid who ran away and was never heard from again?"

"I just... I really thought..."

"I know," he placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "I think all these years of playing protector has made you paranoid."

An involuntary laugh escaped her, but quickly died down again. Shaking her head, she sighed and mustered up a small smile.

"I'm sorry to have wasted your time," she began apologising, but was silenced when he gave her shoulder another squeeze.

"Don't be. If it can somehow help you put Demont – all of it – behind you, then I'm glad to be of service. Only, I'm afraid this leaves you with no suspects as to who is trying to kill your friend."

"We'll figure it out," she muttered, slowly rising from her bed. She felt heavy – despite his reassurances, she couldn't quite shake the strange feeling that had followed her since she first came to Paris.

"Speaking of, have you given more thought to what I suggested?" he inquired as the returned to the hall and headed towards the courtyard again. "About getting the details of your past out into the open?"

She thought back to the night in the inn with Athos, how she had tried and failed to do just that. It was fear that had silenced her. Fear of remembering, fear of growing vulnerable. Athos had promised her that he would help her _forget_. Feeling his eyes on her, she straightened her back and sighed.

"I think it's more important they see me for who I am now – no need to dwell on things forgotten."

"If you say so," he muttered, not concealing the disapproval in his voice. Then, as if to brighten the mood, he reached out and ran a hand over her pauldron. "You know, I look at you know and find it hard to believe you were once just a girl who picked flowers and climbed trees." She felt her smile widen, unable to stop the memories that flooded her mind. These were some of the better ones. "What happened to the Iris I once knew? The one whose biggest concern was getting dirt off her dress before anyone saw?"

"She got a commission to the kings musketeers," Iris chuckled, simply because she couldn't help it. Theo had the power to lessen her burdens – a power shared by Aramis. "Mind you, I still dress normally when I'm off duty. This," she made a sweeping gesture to her clothes, "is simply a question of what is most practical. Also, it's harder than you would imagine to be taken seriously in a duel when you're wearing a dress."

"I can imagine," he agreed, and then seemed to freeze in place. His eyes widened, and for the first time since entering the garrison, he seemed uncertain. She too stopped and followed his line of sight.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me," she hissed at the sight before them. It was indeed lunch time, which was what had drawn the musketeers in for a well deserved break. The courtyard bustled with energy, yet despite all of this it was the table where four men sat watching them attentively.

D'Artagnan, who had finally joined them again, looked up curiously. Porthos was hiding his grin behind his glass, shaking his head at Aramis who watched them with narrowed eyes. Athos simply glanced at them quickly, and then away again.

"Why does it feel as if I have done something wrong?" Theo stepped closer to her, unsure how to react to their welcome.

"You haven't," she felt her jaw lock as Aramis pushed himself off the bench and came towards them, quickly followed by Porthos. "My friends are idiots."

"I cant fight a musketeer," he whispered, growing slightly panicked as the two musketeers came closer. "Let alone four."

"Three and a half, and you wont have to fight anyone," she locked eyes with Aramis and shook her head, warning him to back off. She was not in the mood for the cross-examination that was bound to follow. Contrary to Athos, she knew that Aramis would jump at the chance to peak into her past – and no one could help him more than the man who stood beside her.

* * *

 **I'm not even going to apologize. It's almost been _10 months_ since my last update. Damn.**

 **Mind you all, this story has been very alive in my mind in those months. It has helped with every new favourite, follow and review (you guys are amazing!) and the continued support means everything. I will try to get this going again - we'll see if I can manage to get a somewhat normal update-routine.**

 **Next up; Aramis doesn't know when to stop, Renaud finds a sore spot, and Porthos reveals his heart of gold.**


End file.
